THE 



3d 

PRINCIPLES 



■ . 



METAPHYSICAL AND ETHICAL SCIENCE 



APPLIED TO THE 



EVIDENCES OF RELIGION 



A NEW EDITION, 
REVISED AND ANNOTATED, FOK THE USE OF COLLEGES. 



By FRANCIS BOWEN, A.M. 

ALFORD PROFESSOR OF NATURAL RELIGION, MORAL PHILOSOPHY, AND CIVIL POLITY 
HARVARD COLLEGE. 



BOSTON: 

HICKLING, SWAN AND BROWN. 

1855. 



EV 



WO 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, by 
FRANCIS BOWEN, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 



Exchange 

College of the Pacific 

MAR 3' W; 



PREFACE. 



The substance of this work was delivered in two 
courses of lectures before the Lowell Institute in Bos- 
ton, in the winters of 1848-9. These lectures were 
afterwards published, but the edition of them is now 
exhausted. Having had occasion to use the work as a 
text-book of instruction, for the students of Harvard 
College, in the leading doctrines of Metaphysical and 
Ethical Philosophy, considered as bearing upon the 
Evidences of Religion, I have endeavored to recast the 
materials in this edition, so as to render it more avail- 
able for such a purpose. A few abridgments have made 
room for considerable additions, mostly in the form of 
notes, which are principally designed to elucidate and 
criticize at greater length those doctrines and theories 
on philosophy and science which were but briefly noticed 
in the lectures. In its present form, the work is de- 
signed to be a compend of the principles of Ethics 
and Metaphysics, so far as these affect the foundations 
of our religious belief. Some of the notes are merely 
explanatory, while others are intended, by citations from 
different writers, to support the positions maintained in 
the text. I have made free use, for this purpose, of the 
writings of Isaac Taylor, John S. Mill, Dr. Whewell, 
and Sir "William Hamilton. In its present form, the 
work may be regarded as an imperfect supplement to the 
invaluable treatises of Dr. Butler and Dr. Paley, the 
principal object being to consider those objections and 
difficulties in the way of the believer which are of recent 
origin, or have grown out of recent discoveries and 

(iii) 



IV PREFACE. 

speculations in science and philosophy, as well as the 
important additions to the Evidences of Religion which 
have been derived from the same source. 

In the Preface to the first edition, it was remarked, 
that though so many volumes have been written upon 
the Evidences of Religion, it does not appear that the 
subject is exhausted, or that the productions of a former 
age are, in every respect, suited to the exigencies of our 
own times. There are peculiar forms of infidelity, or 
peculiar causes of latitudinarian opinions in religion, 
which are more prevalent in one age than another. I 
have endeavored in this work to meet those objections 
and difficulties which are most current in our own day ; 
to meet them with that course of argument and illus- 
tration which has seemed most satisfactory to my own 
mind, and without fear of incurring the charge of a 
want of originality on the one hand, or of a fondness for 
novel and abstruse speculations on the other. I have 
not been afraid, either to follow in the footsteps of 
others, if then arguments happened to be best adapted 
to my purpose, or to strike off into a new path, if I 
might thereby more surely and safely attain the great 
object in view. Those who find little that is new in 
this book, may be assured that it was not written for 
them, but for a class of readers who are less adequately 
informed upon the subject. Those who dislike abstract 
speculations, may pass it over for a similar reason ; if 
they have never been entangled in a web of metaphysi- 
cal subtilties, a clew to the labyrinth will be of no ser- 
vice to them. 

Some repetitions may be found in these pages, as I 
have been more willing to incur the charge of prolixity 
and a frequent recurrence to the same line of remark 
and argument, than of obscurity or an affected abstruse- 
ness. The nature of the objections considered has un* 
avoidably led me into some of the dark corners of 
speculation ; but I have honestly tried to dissipate 
rather than increase the obscurity, and for this purpose, 
have often held up the same subject in many different 
lights, and looked at it from various points of view, 
Though the recapitulation, at the beginning of one 



PREFACE. V 

chapter, of the argument in the preceding one, is not so 
useful for the reader as the hearer, I have allowed it to 
remain as it was written, because, when an argument 
has been once explained at length and with some mi- 
nuteness, a brief summary of it often makes the connec- 
tion of its parts more obvious, and the reasoning itself 
more clear and convincing. 

In alluding to some of the novel opinions and theo- 
ries in science and philosophy, which have gained a 
little popularity of late both in England and America, 
though their place of origin must be sought elsewhere, 
it has not been my wish to provoke controversy. Opin- 
ions may be freely discussed without causing offence; 
I have never referred to the individuals or sects who en- 
tertain and defend them. Some of these opinions, I am 
well aware, are held by many persons who unite with 
them a lively and steadfast faith, a devotional spirit, and 
a religious life ; but they have been stumbling-blocks to 
others, for whom alone I have endeavored to surmount 
or remove them. The discussion of them has some- 
times led me further into the territory of the natural 
sciences than it was perhaps prudent for one to venture 
who has only a general acquaintance with these sub- 
jects, and has never made them objects of special pur- 
suit. But in these days, when knowledge is so widely 
diffused that the latest theories and discoveries in. 
science are familiarly discussed in the newspapers, the 
bearing of these theories upon the religious belief of the 
multitude cannot be safely neglected. I have no fears 
of any conflict between the truths of real science and 
those either of Natural or Revealed Religion. The 
voice of nature, when rightly interpreted, never contra- 
dicts itself, and the truth that is fully comprehended is 
always sufficient for its own defence. But when sciol- 
ism is almost universal, speculations which usurp the * 
name and garb of science may often give a rude shock 
to the convictions of a large class who are not well in- 
structed enough to be able to separate hypotheses from 
established facts, and who can be dazzled by the fluent 
use of scientific phraseology. Such speculations are 
easily exposed in their true character, even by those 



yi PREFACE. 

whose studies have not gone beyond the limit which 
every educated person at the present day is supposed to 
have reached. 

The business of a writer upon the Evidences is to 
reason, and not to preach. I have endeavored to show, 
that the fundamental doctrines of religion rest upon the 
same basis which supports all science, and that they 
cannot be denied without rejecting also the familiar 
truths which we adopt almost unconsciously, and upon 
which we depend for the conduct of life and the regula- 
tion of our ordinary concerns. The application of these 
doctrines to the heart and the life, is the business of the 
professed teachers of Christianity, into whose province 
I have not felt competent to intrude. Some may think 
that I have been too cautious in this respect, and^ have 
placed too little stress upon sentiment, and too much 
upon argument, as if religion were less an affair of the 
heart than of the intellect. To this objection it may be 
answered, that belief is one thing, and the regulation of 
conduct according to that belief is another. A cold and 
passive assent to the doctrines of Christianity, is not 
enough to constitute a religious life ; but no one will 
maintain, that a Christian life is compatible with a 
denial of those doctrines, or with indifference upon the 
question whether they are true or false. Emotion which 
is not directed towards any object, nor excited by the 
contemplation of any truth, may spring from a source as 
low as mere physical stimulus ; it is then animal rather 
than spiritual in its nature. Religious emotions must 
rest upon religious ideas and convictions, or they will 
be as transitory as they are vehement. The heart and 
the intellect must move together and in concert, for 
nothing can be more barren than their separate action, 
or more pitiable than a conflict between them. If there 
are any whose enjoyment of spiritual truth is never 
darkened or perplexed by doubts and questionings, they 
are those who have first acquired clear and distinct con- 
ceptions of what that truth is, and have then satisfied 
themselves, by study and experience, that it is founded 
upon a rock. It is doing no honor to our religious faith 
to place it upon the footing of a necessary prejudice. 



PREFACE. VU 

But as this subject is considered at length in some of 
the following chapters, there is no occasion to pursue it 
here. I wished only to express my earnest dissent from 
the doctrine which is now not infrequently avowed, even 
from the pulpit, that any study of the Evidences of Re- 
ligion is unprofitable and vain. On the contrary, I be- 
lieve that there has seldom been a time when such study 
has been more necessary than it is at the present day. 
Religious fanaticism has given way to religious indiffer- 
ence ; the strife of sects with each other has somewhat 
cooled, but the strife of opinions upon all the great sub- 
jects that are interesting to humanity is more active 
and universal than ever. The thirst for innovation has 
greatly increased, and all restraint upon speculation in 
science, philosophy, politics, and social economy is 
taken away. In France and Germany, at this hour, 
[1849,] we see the mournful consequences of this chaotic 
state of public opinion, this upheaval of the foundations 
of belief. The best minds of the former country are 
even now engaged in an attempt to undo their own 
work, and to resettle the belief of the people upon those 
subjects in relation to which they had formerly conspired 
to shake it. The philosophical party in the French In- 
stitute, after being at open war with the clergy for a 
century, are now zealously cooperating with them in the 
endeavor to teach the fundamental truths of religion to 
a deluded and exasperated people. If society in our 
own country is not to experience a similar crisis, it must 
be through the efforts of the educated laity, working in 
concert with the clergy, to erect a barrier against the 
licentious and infidel speculations which are pouring in 
upon us from Europe like a flood. The time seems to 
have arrived for a more practical and immediate verifi- 
cation than the world has ever yet witnessed of the 
great truth, that the civilization which is not based upon 
Christianity is big with the elements of its own destruc- 
tion. 

Cambridge, January 10, 1855. 



CONTENTS. 



FIRST PART 



CHAPTER I. 

PAGE 

The Distinction between Physical and Metaphysical 
Science 1 



CHAPTER II. 

This Distinction applied to Philosophy and Theology 25 



CHAPTER III. 

The Idea of Self, or Personal Existence 



48 



CHAPTER IV. 

The Idea of Cause, and the Nature of Causation 



71 



CHAPTER V. 
Fatalism and Freewill .... 



98 



CHAPTER VI. 

The Argument for Free Agency continued : Reasoning 

from Effect to Cause 123 

(ix) 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER VII. 



All Events in the Material Universe a Proof of the 
Presence and the Agency of God 146 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Inferences from the General Character of the Phenom- 
ena of the Physical Universe 173 



CHAPTER IX. 
The Argument from Design 198 



SECOND PART. 

CHAPTER I. 
The Human distinguished from the Brute Mind . . 223 

CHAPTER II. 
The Principles of Activity in Human Nature . . 250 

CHAPTER III. 
The Nature and Functions of Conscience .... 275 

CHAPTER IV. 

The Nature of Moral Government 296 

CHAPTER V. 

The Contents of the Moral Law a Revelation of the 
Character of the Deity : the Enforcement of the 
Moral Law 32i 



CONTENTS. XI 

CHAPTER VI.^ 
The Goodness of God 345 

CHAPTER VII. 
The Origin of Evil 369 

CHAPTER VIII. 
The Unity of God 393 

CHAPTER IX. 

The Immortality of the Soul cannot be proved without 
the aid of Revelation . .417 

CHAPTER X. 

The Relation of Natural to Revealed Religion . . 442 

CHAPTER XI. 

The Nature of the Evidences of a Revealed Religion . 463 



FIRST PART 



CHAPTER I. 

THE DISTINCTION BETWEEN PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL 
SCIENCE. 

Supposed conflicting claims of Philosophy and Religion. — 
According to a common opinion, Philosophy and Theology are 
sister sciences, so closely allied that it is often difficult to make 
a distinction between them. Every person must hold some 
opinions relative to each ; and these opinions form two mutually 
dependent creeds, which may be, in a greater or less degree, 
peculiar to himself, and of which the action and reaction are so 
nearly equal, that it is often difficult to determine which is the 
parent of the other. Every theory respecting the origin and 
first principles of human knowledge must bear a close relation 
to that subject in regard to which knowledge is of the highest 
value, — the doctrine of God, duty, and immortality. The 
religion of the Greeks and Romans, so far as it existed in a 
definite and consistent form, — that is, as it was conceived by 
enlightened and thinking men among them, — was wholly drawn 
from their philosophical tenets, or, more properly speaking, it 
was identical with those tenets. And so it has been in modern 
times. Skepticism in philosophy and skepticism in religion, if 
not the same thing, at least usually go together. 

1 



2 PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE. 

This, I say, is the common view of the subject ; and we might 
therefore well expect, what often happens, that the claims of the 
two sciences, so called, should seriously conflict. Men are 
drawn different ways by opposite fears, — by their dread, on the 
one hand, of an irreligious philosophy, and on the other, of an 
unphilosophical religion. Loyalty to truth, which is the highest 
claim that can be made upon human reason, is drawn into open 
hostility with our sense of duty to God, which is the most awful 
and imperative of all obligations. The course of the student of 
science, the honest and sincere inquirer after knowledge, often 
appears adverse or injurious to the feelings or the faith — the 
prejudices, if you like — of the religious believer, the devout 
worshipper of an Omnipotent Father and Friend. And even 
where direct opposition is avoided, a disputed claim to prece- 
dence is set up, and sometimes brings with it an intolerable 
burden of anxiety and doubt. On the one hand, it is maintained 
that every religious creed must be tried at the bar of human 
science, and its doctrines accepted or rejected according to their 
agreement with the speculative dogmas which the unaided reason 
has evolved as the limits and criteria of truth ; on the other, the 
sacredness of the subject is unwarily held up to shield theology 
from all investigation, and, not infrequently, discoveries in science 
and theories in philosophy are denounced, if they are at va- 
riance with the supposed dictates of revelation. If metaphys- 
ics are made a test of the truth of Christianity, it seems but 
equal justice to make Christianity a test of the correctness of 
metaphysics. Sometimes a compromise is proposed, which is 
no less shocking to the feelings of the believer than a contume- 
lious rejection of his faith. Philosophy is represented as can- 
did and liberal ; as superseding religion, it is true, in the minds 
of the cultivated and reflecting classes, but continuing to respect 
it, as an imperfect likeness of itself, in the bulk of mankind. 
According to this theory, there are many stages of progress for 
the human intellect, and men pass on from religion to philoso- 
phy, as they do from barbarism to civilization. 

Now, before conflicting claims like these can be reconciled, it 
is necessary to get clearer ideas of the subjects of dispute, to 



PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE. 3 

determine their respective boundaries, to see how far, if at all, 
they encroach upon each other, and, if possible, to settle the 
logic of the inquiry. Perhaps it will be found, after all, that 
the provinces of Philosophy and Theology are entirely distinct, 
so that there is no proper interference, and no cause for contro- 
versy between them. To establish this point is the object of the 
present chapter. We must begin with definitions, and if these 
appear somewhat abstruse at first, I hope they will become 
clearer as we go on. 

Classification of the objects of Knowledge. — The simplest, as 
well as the most comprehensive, classification of all objects of 
knowledge, is that which separates them into relations of ideas 
and matters of fact. I borrow the language of him who was at 
once the most subtile logician and the most consistent skeptic 
of modern times : "All the objects of human reason or in- 
quiry," says Hume, " may naturally be divided into two kinds, 
to wit, Relations of Ideas and Matters of Fact." This coincides 
very nearly with the familiar distinction between physics and 
metaphysics, except that the meaning of the latter must be so 
far extended as to embrace the cognate sciences of grammar, 
logic, and mathematics. Stating the proposition in other words, 
we say that all science may be reduced to two branches : — 
1. The study of things physical, or those which exist distinct 
from our thoughts ; 2. The study of things metaphysical, or 
those which do not exist apart from our thoughts. 

No one can fail to see an essential difference between a fact 
and an abstraction, or a pure idea, like that of cause, goodness, 
'power, existence, and the like. The former is an object of sense, 
something which can be seen, heard, felt, or touched, — whether 
we have had sensible evidence of it ourselves, or rely upon the 
testimony of others who have had such evidence, or infer its 
existence from inductive reasoning, or from the presence of its 
effects. The latter is a pure mental conception, which has no 
existence except in relation to the mind which forms it. Such 
conceptions are called realities only by a figure of speech ; they 
are so called to mark our strong sense of the correctness with 
which a certain quality is attributed to a substance or an action. 



4 PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE. 

Thus, virtue is said, figuratively, to be a reality, only to mark 
our firm belief that there are such things as virtuous actions. 
In this class must be ranked all the abstractions of the geome- 
ter and the algebraist. There are no such things in nature as 
circles and triangles ; the only proper realities are circular ob- 
jects and triangular objects. 

Two classes of matters of fact. — But the nature of these ab- 
stractions may be most clearly apprehended by considering, 
in the first place, what we mean by matters of fact. These 
may be distinguished into things ivhich exist, and events which 
take place, All the objects of natural history and physical 
science — stones, shells, plants, and animals — are ranked in 
the former class ; all the laws, so called, of physical science, 
— the laws of motion, for instance, — all the habits observed 
by the naturalist, such as the modes of growth and reproduc- 
tion of plants and animals, are comprehended in the latter. 
Both alike are matters of fact. It is a fact that the earth ex- 
ists, or is ; it is equally a fact that the earth moves. That there 
is a sun in the heavens is a fact of one order ; that this sun 
illumines objects on the earth is a fact of a different order, — it 
is an event which takes place. We have sensible evidence of 
both.* 

Mode of inquiry and reasoning about abstract ideas. — I am 
dwelling too long, perhaps, on a very familiar distinction ; 
but it is one that is fundamental to the present inquiry, which 
cannot proceed without the fullest and clearest comprehen- 
sion of it. These two classes, which comprehend all objects 
of knowledge, are distinguished from each other, not merely by 
the broad and obvious lines of distinction inherent in their na- 
ture, which have been already explained, but by radical differ- 
ences in the modes of inquiry and reasoning ivhich are respectively 



* " The communication of this kind of knowledge," says Whatcley, " is 
most usually, and most strictly, called information. Y?e gain it from 
observation and from testimony. No mere internal workings of our own minds 
(except when the mind itself is the very object to be observed), or mere 
discussions in words, will make a fact known to us." — Logic, p. 268. 



PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE. 

applicable to them. The relations of ideas — that is, of abstrac- 
tions, or pure ideas — are made known to us by intuition or re- 
flection ; and reasoning about them proceeds by the demonstra- 
tive method, the conclusions at which we arrive being absolutely 
certain. According to the absolute laws of the human under- 
standing, — I speak it reverently, — it is not within the power 
of Omnipotence to disprove these results, or even to render them 
doubtful. Their falsity would involve a contradiction ; to main- 
tain that they are untrue, is to say, that it is possible for a thing 
to be and not to be at one and the same moment. All the truths 
of pure mathematics, pure logic, and pure reason are metaphys- 
ical truths, and we can no more doubt them than we can ques- 
tion the accuracy of the multiplication table. Their falsity is 
inconceivable. This attribute of logical certainty proceeds from 
the pure, abstract, and perfectly simple or uncompounded nature 
of the ideas which enter into such reasoning. These ideas are 
pure creations of the intellect ; in their uncompounded and ab- 
stract character, they are not derived from observation, and are 
therefore not perverted by that great source of error, the imper- 
fection of our senses, or the limitations of our power of percep- 
tion. When we entertain these ideas, or reason about them, 
the mind is closed to all outward impressions, and freed even 
from the memory of their former occurrence.* The ideas that 
are contemplated, then, are contemplated in their entireness ; for, 
being uncompounded, if they are apprehended at all, they must 
be perfectly apprehended, and consequently the relations between 
them are discerned at once, or by intuition. Demonstrative 
reasoning proceeds by a series of such intuitions, and hence the 
absolute character of its results. If the chain of such reasoning 
be too far extended, indeed, without a system of notation, the 



* "A clever man," says Sir J. Herschel, " shut up alone, and allowed 
all unlimited time, might reason out for himself all the truths of mathe- 
matics, by proceeding from those simple notions of space and number of 
which he cannot divest himself -without ceasing to think; but he could 
never tell by any effort of reasoning, what would become of a lump of 
sugar if immersed in water, or what effect would be produced on his eye 
by mixing the eolors yellow and blue/' 

1* 



6 PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE. 

imperfections of memory may come in, some steps may be for- 
gotten, and mistakes will be committed. But this cause of 
error never affects a simple intuition, or a step in the process 
when taken by itself. Here the certainty is absolute. 

Mode of inquiry and reasoning about matters of fact. — Now, 
what is the method of inquiry or procedure for the other class 
of objects of knowledge, — for matters of fact ? We enter upon 
totally different ground here. . Instead of abstractions, we have 
realities ; instead of shutting out sensible evidence altogether, 
we are obliged to rely upon it exclusively; instead of intuitions, 
we have observations and experiments ; instead of demonstra- 
tion, we have induction ; instead of the objects of inquiry being 
perfectly simple and uncompounded, they are made up of an 
unknown and unknowable number of elements and qualities ; 
and instead of arriving at conclusions which are absolutely true, 
we gain those only which are morally certain. I speak now of 
both kinds of matters of fact, — both of things which exist, and 
of events which take place. The imperfections of the senses 
come in here to their full extent, as causes of possible error. 
The objects of physical science must always be imperfectly known ; 
we never can be sure that our analysis of them is complete, or 
that our observation has taken in all their outward qualities. 
The attractive power of the loadstone was known for ages 
before its attribute of polarity was discovered ; yet what is 
apparently more simple and obvious than this quality, which 
can be detected at once by floating a magnet on a piece of cork 
in a basin of water ? Down to the times of Watt and Cavendish, 
water was supposed to be a simple element, and it figures as 
such in some of the most remarkable of the ancient theories of 
cosmogony ; these chemists, about a century ago, discovered 
that it was compounded of two gases. But it is useless to mul- 
tiply instances. The chemist will tell you that it is not impos- 
sible, that it is even probable, that every one of the sixty sub- 
stances now counted as elementary will ultimately be decom- 
posed. Of course, the vast number ""of compounded objects of 
which Natural History takes cognizance are still more imper- 
fectly known in their qualities and relations, than those substances 



PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE. 7 

tvlrich, as vet, are reckoned elementary. This limited acquaint- 
ance with the subjects of investigation must lead only to qual- 
ified, and, in the logical meaning of the term, uncertain, conclu- 
sions respecting them. 

If this is the case with things which exist, it holds still more 
obviously true of events which take place. Our knowledge of 
past events depends either on memory, with its acknowledged 
manifold defects, or on the testimony of others, with the multi- 
plied causes which bring either their intelligence or their veracity 
into doubt. As to future occurrences, the field of positive sci- 
ence is yet more limite-d ; the truth of every proposition respect- 
ing them depends on the axiom, that the course of nature is 
uniform, and under similar circumstances we may look for simi- 
lar effects. Now, in the first place, we never can be sure that 
the circumstances are perfectly similar ; and, secondly, the truth 
of the axiom itself depends wholly on empirical evidence. It 
is possible, that is, it is conceivable, that the sun may not rise 
to-morrow ; but it is not conceivable that two and two should 
make five, or that a straight line should not be the shortest dis- 
tance between two points. The laws of motion are instances of 
the highest generalization and of the most cautious and rigid 
induction, which the whole field of physical science can afford ; 
but what assurance have we that these laws will hold good for 
one moment beyond the present time ? Obviously, we can have 
only a moral certainty of their future operation ; intuition or 
demonstration is here out of the question. 

The two methods afford equally safe grounds of belief — There 
is, then, a radical difference, or a difference in kind, between 
the two methods of investigation which are applicable respec- 
tively to physical and to metaphysical science. But so far as 
the truth of the conclusions, in either case, is concerned, this 
difference is not one of degree ; our conviction is just as firm in 
the one case as in the other. No one complains of the insuffi- 
ciency of the evidence on which rest all the truths of physical 
science and all the facts of history. Our persuasion of the 
reality of our past experience, and of the truths which depend 
on that experience, would not be affected, certainly would not 



8 PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE. 

be increased in the slightest degree, by a technical demonstra- 
tion of that reality or of those truths. In fact, the theorems of 
geometry are received, and practically applied, by multitudes 
who are incapable of demonstrating them. The carpenter, for 
instance, makes almost daily use of the forty-fifth proposition of 
Euclid, though he is not usually able to supply the steps of 
its logical proof; he knows that it is correct by the results of 
his application of it, and because he is told that others have 
demonstrated it, and that he could easily follow out the demon. 
stratum himself, if he were to give the requisite time and atten 
tion to the process. The mariner, also, steers his ship by the 
aid of his Practical Navigator and Nautical Almanac, though 
he cannot give the rationale of one of his own calculations. 
Instruct him in this respect, teach him trigonometry enough to 
demonstrate the rules of plain sailing, and you will enlarge the 
sphere of his ideas and add to his sources of intellectual enjoy- 
ment ; but you will not increase by one iota the strength of his 
belief in the correctness of the processes.* The moral evidence 



* Mr. Stewart remarks, that the mathematician himself is obliged to 
admit the evidence of testimony while engaged in his most abstruse investi- 
gations. " In astronomical calculations, for example, how few are the 
instances in which the data rest on the evidence of our own senses ; and 
yet our confidence in the result is not, on that account, in the smallest de- 
gree weakened. On the contrary, what certainty can be more complete 
than that with which we look forward to an eclipse of the sun or the 
moon, on the faith of elements and of computations which we have never 
verified, and for the accuracy of which we have no ground of assurance 
whatever, but the scientific reputation of the writers from whom we have 
borrowed them. An astronomer who should affect any scepticism with 
respect to an event so predicted, would render himself no less an object of 
ridicule, than if he were disposed to cavil about the certainty of the sun's 
rising to-morrow. 

" Even in pure mathematics, a similar regard to testimony, accompanied 
with a similar faith in the faculties of others, is by no means uncommon. 
Who would scruple, in a geometrical investigation, to adopt as a link in 
the chain, a theorem of Apollonius or of Archimedes, although he might 
not have leisure at the moment to satisfy himself, by an actual examination 
of their demonstrations, that they had been guilty of no paralogism, either 
from accident or design, in the course of their reasonings ? " 



PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE. 9 

on which it formerly rested in his mind was sufficient; the 
strength of the conviction produced by it could not be increased. 

It is more pertinent to my present object to remark, that the 
conduct of human beings is governed exclusively by the evidence 
and the reasoning which are applicable to matters of fact, or, in 
other words, by experience. It is the only proof they have that 
food will nourish, fire burn, or water drown them, — that any 
place exists which they have never visited, or that any person 
lives with whom they have not conversed. These contingent 
truths enter into all our inferences from the past, and all our 
calculations for the future ; man's life is guided by them, from 
the cradle to the grave. If it be objected to this view, that our 
convictions of duty are intuitive, and therefore absolute, I an- 
swer, that duty relates only to motives and a choice of ends ; 
action is always a use of means, and the selection of means is 
the work of experience. The moral law, for instance, bids me 
cultivate honest and humane intentions towards my fellow man ; 
how those intentions shall be most properly manifested in out- 
ward conduct, is a question for the intellect, and one that can be 
answered only by the lessons of experience. The sense of ob- 
ligation stops short with the active intent. 

The logic of physical and metaphysical inquiry. — Here, then, 
we rest the basis of our inquiry. All objects of human hiowledge 
are divided into two classes, perfectly distinguishable from each 
other ; a distinct method of investigation, and a peculiar logic, or 
reasoning process, being appropriate to each. The conclusions 
at which we arrive in the two cases are equally well founded, 
equally deserving of confidence ; but they differ widely in the 
hind or character of the conviction on which they rest, and in the 
nature of the process by which they were obtained. 

Evil of confounding the two methods. — My next proposition 
is, that these two modes of inquiry are not interchangeable, but 
confusion, uncertainty, and error invariably result from mistak- 
ing one for the other, or from attempting to extend the limits of 
either beyond its proper province. Matters of fact cannot be 
demonstrated ; the attempt at a demonstration leads directly to 
that insane skepticism which teaches us to distrust or reject all 



10 PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE. 

experience. The relations of •pure ideas cannot he ascertained 
by the inductive method ; they can neither be proved by testi- 
mony, nor learned from experiment and observation. The trial 
of these inadequate media of proof tends only to deprive the 
soul of its highest convictions, and terminates in a mean and 
shallow empiricism. The history of science, from the earliest 
period down to the present day, affords numberless illustrations 
of the evil of confounding these two methods. The physical 
inquiries of the ancients were all fruitless, because their false 
notions of the dignity of science made them despise particulars 
and begin with general ideas, from which, by logical deduction, 
they hoped to obtain all special truths ; that \s,from abstractions 
they sought to infer matters of fact, and thus to change the labor 
of the inquirer from observation to reflection. Their physics 
were all metaphysics. " The early philosophers of Greece," 
says Dr. Whewell, " entered upon the w r ork of physical specula- 
tion in a manner which showed the vigor and confidence of the 
questioning spirit, as yet untamed by labors and reverses. It 
was for later ages to learn, that man must acquire, slowly and 
patiently, letter by letter, the alphabet in which nature writes 
her answers to such inquiries ; the first students wished to di- 
vine, at a single glance, the whole import of the book." As 
their first inquiry, they endeavored to discover the origin and 
principle of the universe. Thales maintained that it was water ; 
according to another, it was air ; while a third considered fire 
as the origin of all things. This last hypothesis, it may be re- 
marked, has been revived by a popular cosmogonist * of our 
own day, avIio has found the seminal principle of all things, in- 
cluding the various ranks of animate being, the body, and even 
the soul, of man, in a primitive fiery mist. These wide and 
ambitious doctrines, it has been well remarked, are "better 
suited to the dim magnificence of poetry, than to the purpose of 
a philosophy which was to bear the sharp scrutiny of reason. 
When we speak of the principles of things, the term, even now, 



* The author of the Vestiges of Creation. 



PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE. 11 

is very ambiguous and indefinite in its import ; but how much 
more was that the case in the first attempts to use such abstrac- 
tions ! " 

Error of the Schoolmen. — The history of physical science, as 
it was studied by the schoolmen during the Middle Ages, is 
quite as unsatisfactory as the record of its treatment by the 
ancients. Logic, which I have ventured to class with the meta- 
physical sciences, because it is exclusively concerned with the 
relations of ideas, or with abstractions of the highest order, now 
claimed the chief attention in the schools. There were two 
reasons for giving it this preference : first, because it was held, 
as before, that all knowledge might be deduced from general ideas, 
so as to avoid the necessity of studying nature or observing 
'particulars ; and secondly, because it was believed that the an- 
cients had already exhausted the inquiry and completed the 
work, so that all truth might be ascertained, and all controversies 
terminated, by a right interpretation of the works of Aristotle 
and his commentators, — this interpretation being governed, of 
course, by the rules of a sound logic. The scholastics held, 
u that all science may be obtained by the use of reasoning 
alone, — that by analyzing and combining the notions which 
common language brings before us, we may learn all that we 
can know." The fallacy of this, it has been well remarked, 
consists in mistaking the universality of the theory of language 
for the generalization of facts. All words, excepting proper 
names, denote either general conceptions or abstract ideas ; and 
the study of the relations of words is therefore a study of the 
relations of ideas, and must proceed by the former of the two 
methods which we have been considering, — that is, by intuition 
and demonstration. 

This method barren of results. — We might well expect that 
physical science, or the study of matters of fact, when pursued 
by this method, would produce only nugatory or profitless re- 
sults. It has been stated on high authority, that not one step 
had really been taken in physical science down to the period of 
the Revival of Letters ; — not a foot of ground had been gained 



12 PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE. 

by the labors of more than two thousand years.* This state- 
ment is perhaps too strong ; for something was undoubtedly 
accomplished in astronomy by Hipparchus and Ptolemy, some- 
thing in natural history by such observers as Aristotle, Theo- 
phrastus, and Pliny, while the medical profession, even at the 
present day, does not wholly repudiate the authority of Hippoc- 
rates and Galen. But how little real progress the human mind 
Lad made during this long lapse of centuries, may be correctly 
inferred from the round of studies pursued at the Universities ; 
the course of seven sciences, included under the fantastic names 
of the trivium and the qaadrivium y comprised grammar, logic, 
and rhetoric, together with arithmetic, geometry, music, and 
astronomy. Of these, only the last can be ranked among the 
physical sciences, as music was then only an art which had not 
been reduced to its scientific principles. The others are all 
metaphysical in character, and the only organon, or method of 
investigation, which was then in use, being appropriate to these, 
the success with which they were cultivated affords a striking 
contrast to the barrenness of physical inquiry. Logic came 
almost perfect from the hands of him who may be called its 
inventor. Sir "William Hamilton, the most accomplished logi- 
cian of our own day, asserts distinctly, that there has been, 
" in fact, no progress made in the general development of the 

* " Of the criteria for guiding our judgment among so many different 
and discordant schools, there is none more to be relied on than that which 
is exhibited in their fruits ; for the fruits of any speculative doctrine, or the 
inventions which it has really produced, are, as it were, sponsors or vouch- 
ers for the truths which it contains. Now, it is well known, that from the 
philosophy of the Greeks, with its numerous derivative schools, hardly one 
experimental discovery can be collected which has any tendency to aid or 
ameliorate the condition of man, or which is entitled to rank with the ac- 
knowledged principles of genuine science. Wherefore, as in religion, faith 
is proved by its works, so in philosophy, it were to be wished, that those 
theories should be accounted vain, which, when tried by their fruits, are 
barren ; much more those which, instead of grapes and olives, have pro- 
duced only thorns and thistles of controversy." — Bacon's Nov. Org. Aph. 
Ixxiii. 



PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE. 13 

syllogism since the time of Aristotle." The case of mathe- 
matics is nearly as strong, the geometry of Euclid and Archim- 
edes being still the boast of the science. These were the 
results of applying the appropriate mode of reasoning to the 
metaphysical sciences, or those which are concerned exclusively 
with the relations of ideas ; while the inappropriateness of this 
same mode of reasoning to physical science, that is, to matters 
of fact, is proved by the almost total failure of all attempts in 
this department for more than twenty centuries. 

Rapid progress of physical science after the Baconian reform. 
— It is not necessary to dwell here on so familiar a history as 
that of the sudden rise and extraordinary development of phys- 
ical science at the close of the sixteenth century. The rapid 
succession of brilliant discoveries made by Galileo, Stevinus, 
and Gilbert, was ill itself a proof that they had at length hit 
upon the true method of physical investigation, just before the 
illustrious Englishman — himself hardly capable of reducing 
any one of his own rules successfully to practice, but gifted 
with an intellect no less clear and penetrating than compre- 
hensive and profound, and with a sagacity and hopefulness 
which unrolled before him the history of the future triumphs of 
science almost as distinctly as the record of its past defeats — 
supplied the rationale of this method, reduced it to a complete 
system, and evolved and stated with wonderful precision the 
rules for its successful use, in those immortal works which have 
gained for him the deserved title of Father of the Inductive 
Philosojohy. To say that the inductive method was practised 
in some cases before the time of Bacon, is about as idle as to 
assert that men sometimes reasoned correctly before Aristotle 
wrote his Logic ; though the assertion in the former case is not 
true to the same extent as in the latter, since the latter half of 
the century in which Bacon was born, though not that in which 
his principal works were published, witnessed the first successful 
application of this method to physical science. The merit of 
these two great men is of the same order ; each wrought out 
with scientific precision and completeness the logic of discovery 
and proof in one of the two great departments of human hnowU 
2 



14 PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE. 

edge. The one taught us the theory of reasoning syllogistically, 
or to a demonstration, about the relations of ideas; the other 
showed us the theory of reasoning inductively from matters of 
fact. 

Corruption of metaphysical science by the inductive method. — 
The extraordinary success of physical inquiry after Bacon's 
time tended naturally to the depression, and somewhat to the 
injury or corruption, of abstract science. The undue extension 
of the inductive method to the region of pure ideas produced 
the ethical system of Hobbes, himself a friend and disciple of 
the great master, but whose philosophy is now a byword from 
its degrading principles, and its tendencies to selfishness in 
morals, to materialism in philosophy, and to despotism in poli- 
tics. Among his successors may be counted Mandeville, " the 
buffoon and sophister of the ale-house," and the English school 
of deists of the early part of the last century, including Boling- 
broke, the friend and philosophical instructor of Pope. From 
him his satirical pupil learned to sneer at the metaphysicians 
of the older school, who, in the Universities or the Church, dis- 
trustful of the tendencies of modern physical science, and per- 
haps ignorant alike of its principles and its practice, still kept 
up their fondness for ancient and abstract learning. 

A later instance of the erroneous application of the method 
of physical inquiry to metaphysical subjects may be found in 
the writings of the celebrated David Hartley, who endeavored 
to account for the course and association of our ideas by vibra- 
tions and vibratiuncles in the medullary substance *of the brain. 
Of the same school was Dr. Priestley, whose just fame for his 
brilliant discoveries in natural science inclines one to speak ten- 
derly of his philosophical speculations, though his habits, formed 
in the laboratory and other schools of experimental investiga- 
tion, betrayed him into the avowed support of materialism, and 
of what he calls the doctrine of "philosophical necessity." The 
influence of the same cause of error may be traced in the works 
of the French philosophers, so called, of the last century, espec- 
ially in those of Helvetius, Volney, D'Holbach, and Condillac. 
Helvetius, for instance, refusing to receive any other evidence 



PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE. 15 

than that of the senses, tracing all ideas to this source, and as- 
suming the inductive method to be the only guide to knowledge, 
can find no cause for the superiority of man over the brute, ex- 
cept that the human hand is a more convenient instrument than 
the foot of a quadruped, which terminates in horn, nails, or 
claws. " The life of animals, in general," he observes, " being 
of a shorter duration than that of man, does not permit them to 
make so many observations, or to acquire so many ideas ; and 
animals, being better armed and better clothed by nature than 
the human species, have fewer wants, and consequently fewer 
motives to stimulate or exercise their invention. Who can 
doubt, then," he triumphantly asks, " that if the wrist of a man 
had been terminated by the hoof of a horse, the species would 
still have been wandering in the forest ? " 

Such vagaries of speculation are not a whit more respectable 
than the opposite errors of the schoolmen, who sought to inter- 
pret nature by the relations of abstract ideas, or, in other words, 
to ascertain facts by the aid of a transcendental logic. It would 
be very unjust to accuse the inductive method of leading to these 
gross blunders, which have arisen solely from a misapplication 
of that method, from an extension of it to a province which it 
was never formed to govern, namely, the region of pure mental 
conceptions. We shall be likely to avoid both causes of error 
by keeping constantly in view the axiom, that the methods, as 
well as the objects, of physical and of metaphysical inquiry are 
radically different. We never can demonstrate a matter of fact ; 
we can have no sensible evidence of the relations of abstract 
ideas. There is no question of dignity between the two meth- 
ods ; each is sovereign in its own sphere. There is no superi- 
ority of the one kind of evidence over the other, when considered 
as a foundation of belief ; both lead to positive and well-found- 
ed convictions. 

Confusion of the two methods in our own times. — The latest 
historian of the Inductive Sciences is not satisfied with this ex- 
clusion of metaphysical ideas from the domain of physical in- 
vestigation ; his work upon the Philosophy of these sciences, 
which is an elaborate attempt to enlarge the inductive method 



16 PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE. 

by the doctrines, and to clothe it in the terminology, of Kantian 
metaphysics, is a virtual restoration of the scholastic method, or 
the philosophy of the Middle Ages, and must be considered as 
" a remarkable instance of what has been aptly called the pe- 
culiar zest which the reaction against modern tendencies gives 
to the revival of ancient absurdities." When Dr. Whewell, in 
his glowing admiration of the brilliant discoveries recently made 
in natural science, expresses his confident hope * that the mere 
physical inquirer will soon pass on from a determination of the 
laws of phenomena to a knowledge of the efficient causes of these 
phenomena, and gives, as a reason for this expectation, the light 
that has recently been thrown upon the action of polar forces, 
one may be permitted to doubt whether he knows the meaning 
of the words he uses, or is able to distinguish efficient from oc- 
casional causes. A far more cautious thinker, Mr. John Stuart 
Mill, in his zeal for inductive logic, falls into an error of the 
opposite character, by boldly taking up the doctrine, that even 
the axioms of the mathematician are but generalizations from 
experience, that there is no distinction between necessary truths 
and facts of observation, and, consequently, that the reasonings 
of the geometer do not differ in kind from the inductions of the 
optician or the chemist. It is hardly necessary to say, that the 
common opinion of the scientific world lies between the extreme 
doctrines maintained respectively by these two theorists. 

The case of the Mixed Sciences considered. — The case of the 
Mixed Sciences deserves consideration here, as it really corrobo- 
rates the principles that have been advanced, though it may 
appear at first sight to conflict with them. Pure logic and pure 
mathematics are not so much sciences, as methods of scientific 
inquiry, or organa of investigation and proof. They are modes 
of reasoning, irrespective of the subjects or facts which we reason 



* Nay, more ; he does not merely hope. If language rightly conveys his 
meaning, he believes the thing has been done. He says, " Newton then dis- 
covered, not merdy a law of phenomena, but a true cause ; and therefore he was 
the greatest of discoverers ! " Greatest indeed ; if this assertion were true, 
he was divine. — Phil, of the Inductive Sciences, 2d ed., Vol. II. p. 323. 



PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE. 17 

about, and therefore applicable to all subjects. In the syllogism, 
for instance, the conclusion follows with absolute certainty from 
the premises, the truth of the premises being presupposed; 
whether this truth rests upon sensible evidence, or intuition, or 
a previous demonstration, is of no consequence. The principles 
of the syllogism, then, are pure abstractions ; and the letters of 
the alphabet, or purely arbitrary marks taken. as signs of any 
ideas or facts whatsoever, are the most convenient notation for 
expressing them. If the premises are matters of fact, or con- 
tingent truth, the conclusion will also be a matter of fact, or 
contingent truth ; only the relation between premises and con- 
clusion is a metaphysical truth, and as such is made known by 
intuition. 

Pure mathematics never lead to a discovery of matters of fact. 
— The case is precisely similar with mathematics, in which we 
employ a notation of the same sort. In its pure form, this 
science proceeds from abstraction to abstraction, the truth de- 
veloped by it having no foundation in fact, and never being 
exemplified in the external world. If an event in the physical 
world, or a proposition founded on experience, be taken as a 
datum, or point of departure for the inquiry, however long the 
chain of mathematical reasoning may be which proceeds from 
it, the result at which we arrive is a truth of the same order 
with the one which formed the basis of the investigation. It 
has lost nothing, and it has gained nothing, in point of logical 
certainty, through the process to which it has been subjected. 

Take, for instance, the most brilliant achievement that is re- 
corded in the whole history of mathematical science, — the 
recent discovery, by Adams and Leverrier, of a new orb on the 
further verge of our planetary system. Its existence was long 
before suspected, for it was said that its influence had been felt 
trembling along the far-extended line of our delicate analysis. 
But how was this influence detected ? It was through repeated 
observations, made by the telescope, of certain irregularities in 
the motion of Uranus, — observations so delicate, and irregu- 
larities so slight, that many years elapsed before it could be 
said with certainty that the latter were real, or before they 

2* 



18 PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE. 

could be measured so nicely as to afford a basis for the calcula- 
tions which were to reveal the mass and the position of the 
body that caused them ; — I say the mass and the position, for 
the general fact of the existence of such a body was inferred at 
once, by strict induction, from the mere knowledge that there 
were such irregularities. 

A boat, moored at night by the side of a placid stream, sud- 
denly heaves and oscillates as a few slight ripples move over 
the surface of the waters ; and the watcher in that little boat, 
though he can descry nothing in the darkness, knows at once 
that some large object not far off is passing up or down the 
river, and throwing off those waves which extend obliquely 
from its wake. Had he instruments nice enough to measure 
the exact size and force of these ripples, and the aid of an em- 
pirical law, like that of Bode, to teach him that the object could 
move only through a certain channel at a known distance from 
him, he might calculate the size and exact position of the 
moving mass, so as to turn his night-glass directly upon it. 
This is precisely what was done by Adams and Leverrier. 
The calculation alone was mathematical ; the existence of the 
new planet had previously been made known by induction, and 
the data used by the computers were all observed facts. And 
it was not the mathematical process which afforded any new evi- 
dence, or added to the convictions of astronomers that a hitherto 
unobserved planet rolled beyond the path of Uranus. The cal- 
culations left this supposed fact precisely where it was before, 
with the exact measure or kind of certainty which belongs to a 
truth of induction.* The crowning labor of the whole, the real 
discovery, which, in legal phrase, changed circumstantial to 
direct evidence, was made when Challis at Cambridge and 
Galle at Berlin turned their telescopes to the region indicated, 



* " Calculation," says Dugald Stewart, " is certainly not an instrument 
of discovery at all analogous to experiment and observation ; it can ac- 
complish nothing in the study of nature till they have supplied the mate- 
rials ; and is indeed only one of the arts by which we are enabled to give 
a greater degree of accuracy to their results." 



PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE. 19 

and actually saw the new orb which was causing this ripple in 
the heavens. In Avhat sense, or with what color of reasoning, 
then, can it be said that moral evidence, the testimony of the 
senses, is inferior in degree to mathematical certainty ? 

Mixed character of ethical science. — It would not be difficult, 
in the case of any of the Mixed Sciences, to separate demonstra- 
tive from empirical truths, by simply inquiring whether the 
terms of the proposition express abstract or concrete ideas. 
Ethical science has this mixed character, quite as much so as 
Mechanics. Casuistry consists in the application of the general 
and abstract principles of ethics to particular cases ; and here, 
from the difficulty of getting at or expressing all the facts in 
the case, doubt comes in. If I say, that veracity is a duty of 
paramount obligation, I affirm what no human being, in the full 
possession of his reason, will dare to deny, any more than to 
question the conclusions of the geometer. But if informed, on 
some express occasion, that I am bound to tell the whole truth to 
a sick person, or a madman, I demur ; here is a particular case, 
and all the attendant circumstances must be noted ; it seems 
necessary to inquire what are the motives for giving intelligence 
to such a person, and what will be the probable consequences of 
imparting to him the whole truth. I do not undertake to decide 
the point ; moralists differ about it ; and this difference is quite 
enough for my purpose, which is to show, that whenever we 
come down from the abstract to the concrete, doubts may rea- 
sonably and righteously be entertained. We have left the re- 
gion of abstract truths, of intuition and demonstration, and come 
down to a practical application, to the world of realities, where 
a different method must be pursued; we must here observe 
facts, weigh probabilities, estimate consequences, and bring all 
the resources of the inductive logic into play. Let it not be 
said, that this is removing the certainty of moral obligation to a 
point whence it can never actually guide the conduct of men. 
In vastly the greater number of instances, the light which ob- 
servation and experience afford for the application of the rule is 
quite as clear and convincing as the boasted demonstration which 
supports the abstract principle ; and in the few remaining cases, 



20 PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE. 

as the moral law relates exclusively to motives, there is no dan- 
ger of fatal error. 

Ultraism and fanaticism traced to the abuse of abstract prin- 
ciples. — And herein, as it seems to me, is one great cause of 
the abuse of general principles in morals, politics, and jurispru- 
dence, and of the intolerable evils which are occasioned by 
fanaticism of belief and a reckless ultraism. It may be granted 
that the abstract principle, the grand object in view, is one of 
awful and imperative obligation, overriding all considerations 
of personal interest, and needing to be prosecuted with a mar- 
tyr's zeal, perhaps even to a martyr's fate. But this admis- 
sion does not justify me, on a particular occasion, in shutting 
my eyes and rushing at that object like a mad bull, careless of 
the injury or ruin that I may cause, or of the other duties that 
I may trample down in my path. The question respecting the 
validity of the principle is totally distinct from that which conr- 
cems the choice of means, of the time and manner of carrying it 
into effect. The former is. determined by intuition, — by " the 
inner light," if you will, — by the candle which the Lord hath 
set up in every unperverted conscience, lighting him on to that 
clear, absolute, and immediate conviction which knows no 
doubt, and quails not at any personal sacrifice. The latter is 
to be settled by careful and anxious observation of the particu- 
lar circumstances of the case, by a cautious induction of exam- 
ples illustrating consequences, by examining needfully and rev- 
erently all the other duties that may possibly be violated by 
our conduct. If this scrutiny be neglected, not even the glory 
of self sacrifice will avail to cover up the awful error, except, 
perhaps, in our own esteem. Omitting this, though the zealot 
should follow his principles even to the scaffold or the stake, his 
name shall not be encircled with the glory of a martyr, but it 
shall be said of him, that he " died as the fool dieth." 

In what proportions demonstrative reasoning is applicable to 
the various Mixed Sciences. — Coming back for a moment to 
the main subject of discussion, it may be observed, that the pecu- 
liar clearness and force of demonstrative reasoning seem to depend 
on that perfect knowledge of the subjects of inquiry, which results 



PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE. 21 

from their simplicity or uncompounded character. In the sci- 
ence of Medicine, at least in the therapeutical branch of it, we 
need to know many or all of the qualities and constituents of 
very complex objects, — the medicinal qualities of the drugs, 
the peculiarities of the patient's constitution, and the circum- 
stances of the moment, which may greatly modify the action of 
the former upon the latter. Obviously, this is the business of 
sheer empiricism, being in many instances no better than guess- 
work.* In Chemistry, we go a step higher, as it is necessary 
to attend, at most, to the qualities or elements of but one class 
of objects ; still, we never can know that the analysis is com- 
plete, or the observation perfect, and are therefore obliged to 
grope our way by experiment and very limited induction, per- 
haps never establishing a universal principle by a priori evi- 
dence. In the science of Mechanics, we make a great advance, 
as many abstractions are employed, friction, the rigidity of ma- 
terials, and the resistance of the air, being generally put aside ; 
mathematical reasoning here comes into play, which had no 
application in the former sciences, and our conclusions are 
more abstract, more general, and therefore less practically avail- 
able.^ In Celestial Mechanics, it happens curiously, that the 



* " The evidence on which the physician proceeds," says Dugald Stew- 
art, " so far as it rests on experience, is weakened or destroyed by the 
uncertain condition of every new case to which his former results are to 
be applied. Without a peculiar sagacity and discrimination in marking 
not only the resembling, but the characteristical, feature of disorders classed 
under the same technical name, his practice cannot be said with propriety 
to be guided by any one rational principle of decision, but merely by blind 
and random conjecture/' 

f " That practical science which relates to the strength of materials," 
for instance, " combines the principles of several sciences. Let the prob- 
lem be, to determine the necessary breadth and depth of the girder of a 
floor, that shall sustain a given weight, the length of the span also being 
given. Now, these dimensions are not to be found without having re- 
course, first, to the higher mathematics, or those purely abstract truths 
which are independent of all the laws of the actual world, and which 
would be what they are, although there were no such principle as gravi- 
tation, or no material system. In the next place, this law of gravitation 



22 PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE. 

abstractions are, as it were, ready-made by nature, gravitation 
being the sole quality that it is necessary to take into view. 
Friction, the rigidity of materials, and a resisting medium — 
though of this last there may be some doubt — are eliminated 
by the nature of the case ; the problem is complicated only by 
the gravitating effect of different bodies on each other. Our 
conclusions are very general, then, but also very limited, as they 
relate exclusively to position and motion. Astronomy, it was 
remarked many years ago, is a perfect science ; and so it is, 
the theory of it, though the improvement of instruments is daily 
bringing to light new facts. 

Thus it appears, that we approximate the sphere of meta- 
physical evidence and demonstrative reasoning just in propor- 
tion as we leave the world of realities and facts, and abandon 
the consideration of objects in their entireness, or in all their 
relations.* 



must be understood, in order to find the point of the strain, as well as the 
true proportion between depth and breadth. And, lastly, the peculiar prop- 
erties of the several species of timber must be precisely known, and known 
by experiment ; . . . and it is not the mathematician, but the naturalist, who 
must inform the practical man on these points." 

" Now, let it, in these cases, be supposed that the mathematician, dogmat- 
ically confident of his demonstrations, (and this is in fact the fault of the 
earlier mathematicians, and not seldom of Leibnitz,) to determine the 
problem above mentioned, as if it were a pure abstraction; or, if he referred 
loosely to certain vulgar facts concerning the strength of timber, were nei- 
ther to make experiments of this physical kind, nor to swerve at all from 
his mathematical processes in regard to them : — in this case, all his pro- 
ducts must be erroneous. Or, though correct mathematically, they would be 
inapplicable to the real world, and useless, or worse than useless, in prac- 
tice," — Isaac Taylor's Introduction to Edwards on the Will, p. cxxxiii. 

* Every one would wish to speak of Dr. Whewell with the respect which 
is required by his encyclopaedic learning, his indefatigable activity of 
mind, and the zealous devotion of all his powers to the best interests of 
science and education. But it has been wittily said of him, that " his forte 
is science, and his foible is omniscience." It is to be wished that he had 
let metaphysics alone, and had contented himself with the glory of master- 
ing, and doing something to improve, every one of the Inductive Sciences. 
His great work on these sciences contains, along with many ingenious 
disquisitions and a prodigious amount of learning, a great deal of bad phi- 



PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE. 23 

losophy. He seriously undertakes to prove, that Astronomy and Me- 
chanics are not Mixed, but Pure Sciences ; that the data on which they 
rest, as well as the steps of reasoning by which they proceed, are intui- 
tions of pure reason, independent of all experience ; that gravity, for in- 
stance, is a necessary and inherent quality of matter, like extension and 
figure, — a doctrine which Newton himself emphatically disavows ; and 
that the three primary laws of motion, in like manner, are not general 
facts, made known by induction, but are original and necessary truths, not 
evolved out of experience, but first revealed by careful study and re- 
flection upon the train of our ideas. He thus binds himself to prove, (to 
adopt Sir J. Herschel's illustration,) that a clever man, shut up alone, 
might work out for himself, by dint of hard thinking, the whole Principia 
of Xewton, without any aid from experiment and observation. These 
heresies have been sufficiently and sharply reproved by Sir William Ham- 
ilton, Mr. Mansel, (the author of Prolegomena Logica,) and, in advance, by 
Dugald Stewart. Hamilton argues thus : — 

" Dr. Whewell asserts, ' that such propositions do not depend at all upon 
experience.' On the contrary, I maintain that all propositions which in- 
volve the notion of gravitation, weight, pressure, presuppose experience ; 
for by experience alone do we become aware, that there is such a quale 
and quantum in the universe. To think it existent, there is no necessity 
of thought ; for we can easily in thought conceive the particles of matter, 
(whatever these may be) indifferent to each other, — nay, endowed with a 
mutually repulsive, instead of a mutually attractive force. "We can even, in 
thought, annihilate matter itself. So far, the asserted axiom is merely a 
derived, and that too merely an empirical, proposition. But, moreover, 
not only are we dependent on experience for the fact of the existence of 
gravitation, etc., we are also indebted to observation for the further facts 
of the uniform and continuous operation of that force ; and thus, in a second 
(and even third) potence, are all such propositions dependent upon expe- 
rience." 

But Dr. Whewell remarks, if it be said that we cannot have the idea of 
pressm-e without the use of the senses, and this is experience, the same 
may be said of our ideas of relation in space ; and thus Geometry, no less 
than Mechanics, depends upon experience in this sense. 

Hamilton replies, " This is only another instance of confusion of thought 
and ignorance of the subject. The ideas of relation in space and the ideas 
of pressure differ obtrusively in this : — that we can, in thought, easily an- 
nul pressure, all the properties of matter, and even matter itself; but are 
wholly unable to think away from space and its relations. The latter are 
conditions of, the former are educts from, experience ; and it is this differ- 
ence of^their object-matters, which constitutes Geometry and Arithmetic 
pure or a priori sciences, and Mechanics a science empirical, or a poste- 
riori." 

Mr. Stewart, in animadverting upon the error into which Dr. Whewell 



24 PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL SCIENCE. 

has since fallen, has pointed out very clearly the bias of mind in which it 
has its origin. "As the study of the mechanical philosophy," he observes, 
"is, in a great measure, inaccessible to those who have not received a regu- 
lar mathematical education, it commonly happens, that a taste for it is, 
in the first instance, grafted on a previous attachment to the researches of 
pure or abstract mathematics. Hence a natural and insensible transfer- 
ence to physical pursuits, of mathematical habits of thinking ; and hence 
an almost unavoidable propensity to give to the former science that sys- 
tematical connection in all its various conclusions which, from the nature 
of its first principles, is essential to the latter, but which can never belong 
to any science which has its foundations laid in facts collected from expe- 
rience and observation." 

" In pure geometry, no reference to the senses can be admitted, but in 
the way of illustration ; and any such reference, in the most trifling step 
of a demonstration, vitiates the whole. But in Natural Philosophy, all 
our reasonings must be grounded on principles for which no evidence but 
that of sense can be obtained ; and the propositions which we establish, 
differ from each other only as they are deduced from such principles im- 
mediately, or by the intervention of a mathematical demonstration. An 
experimental proof, therefore, of any particular physical truth, when it can 
be conveniently obtained, although it may not always be the most elegant 
or the most expedient way of introducing it to the knowledge of the stu- 
dent, is as rigorous and as satisfactory as any other ; for the intervention of 
a process of mathematical reasoning can never bestow on our conclusions a greater 
degree of certainty than our principles possessed. 

" I have been led to enlarge on these topics by that unqualified applica- 
tion of mathematical method to physics, which has been fashionable for 
many years past among foreign writers, and which seems to have origi- 
nated chiefly in the commanding influence which the genius and learning 
of Leibnitz has so long maintained over the scientific taste of most Euro- 
pean nations. I have [elsewhere] taken notice of some other inconven- 
iences resulting from it, still more important than the introduction of an 
unsound logic into the elements of Natural Philosophy ; in particular, of 
the obvious tendency which it has to withdraw the attention from that unity 
of design, which it is the noblest employment of philosophy to illustrate, 
by disguising it under the semblance of an eternal and necessary order, 
similar to what the mathematician delights to trace among the mutual rela- 
tions of quantities and figures. The consequence has been, (in too many 
physical systems,) to level the study of nature, in point of moral interest, 
with the investigations of the algebraist ; — an effect, too, which has taken 
place most remarkably, where, from the sublimity of the subject, it was 
least to be expected, — in the application of the mechanical philosophy to 
the phenomena of the heavens." 



PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY. 25 



CHAPTER II. 

THIS DISTINCTION APPLIED TO PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY. 

Summary of the last Chapter. — In the last chapter, I en- 
deavored to define and distinguish the nature and scope of 
physical and metaphysical inquiry, — to show that the one was 
properly confined to matters of fact, and the other to relations 
of ideas. Demonstrative reasoning, I attempted to prove, be- 
longs exclusively to the latter, and its conclusions are always 
abstract ; the truths of physical science are obtained only by the 
inductive method, by observation and experiment, and by gen- 
eralizations extending from individuals to a class. Yet the 
former method has no superiority over the latter, when con- 
sidered simply as a foundation of belief. Both alike command 
our assent on indisputable grounds, though the media of proof 
are radically unlike. Sensible evidence and inductive reason- 
ing, it is true, admit of degrees, and lead to all shades of belief, 
from the faintest probability up to what is called moral certainty. 
Demonstrative reasoning, on the other hand, has no degrees ; a 
proposition is established by it either conclusively, or not at all. 
If successful, it would be contradictory and absurd to deny the 
conclusion, the proof being then equivalent, but not superior, 
to that which in the former case renders a fact morally certain. 
To adopt Locke's distinction between insanity and idiocy, we 
might say that only a madman can reject a mathematical proof 
after it has been once explained to him, while to be incapable 
of governing one's conduct by that sensible evidence which con- 
trols the actions of our fellows, is simply idiocy. Such a per- 
son is usually said to be incapable of keeping out of fire and 
water, because he is not able to learn from induction, or re- 
peated experiment, that the former will burn and the latter will 
drown him. A very brief glance at the history of science was 

3 



26 PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY. 

intended to show, that most of the mistakes, retrogressions, and 
absurdities which have hindered the progress of it, may be 
traced to ignorance or forgetfulness of the distinction here 
pointed out, — to an attempt to deduce facts from abstract con- 
ceptions, or to draw down pure ideas to sensible observation 
and material tests, — to calling for demonstration in physics, or 
following the guidance of the senses only in metaphysical in- 
vestigations. Illustrations of this error might easily be multi- 
plied from the whole domain of science and speculation, not less 
numerous and apt in our own day, perhaps, than they were 
among the ancients or in the times of the schoolmen ; but less 
conspicuous, affecting a smaller class of minds, and therefore less 
likely, we may hope, to be chronicled for the mingled amuse- 
ment and pity of future generations. They are now the follies 
of a sect, a party, or a clique, — usually a small one ; while in 
former days, they were the indications of a universal evil, pro- 
ceeding from ill-formed habits of thought, and offering a far-ex- 
tended and almost insuperable barrier to the progress of knowl- 
edge. 

Nature and Object of Philosophy, or Metaphysical Science. — 
Leaving the task of mere illustration, then, I proceed to inquire 
how far the distinction now pointed out may be made available 
for one great purpose of this work, — to determine clearly the 
respective limits oi^Religion and Philosophy. It is obvious that 
the latter term, which is often applied very generally to the 
pursuit of all knowledge, must here be used in a restricted 
sense, and be made synonymous, in fact, with metaphysics. It 
cannot be denned more clearly, without a tedious enumeration 
of all the questions and problems which it comprehends. It is 
concerned with the origin and explication of our ideas of cause, 
power, infinity, knowledge, freewill, identity, substance, and the 
like, all of which are pure abstractions, so that we must reason 
about them demonstratively, or not at all. Philosophy, in this 
narrow meaning of the word, includes precisely that class of 
subjects which Milton assigned for contemplation to one band 
of the spirits fallen from heaven, who, in their place of punish- 
ment, 



PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY. 27 

" apart sat on a hill retired, 
In thoughts more elevate, and reasoned high 
Of providence, foreknowledge, will, and fate, 
Fixed fate, freewill, foreknowledge absolute, 
And found no end, in wandering mazes lost." 

All science proceeds from one generalization to another, and 
must therefore end at a point, in a science that surveys the 
basis of all the others, determines their proper relations, and 
binds the whole into one orderly system of knowledge. This 
seems to have been Lord Bacon's conception of the matter, 
when, in his general scheme of knowledge, he says, " The basis 
is Natural History, the stage next the basis is Physics, the 
stage next the vertical point is Metaphysics." To examine in 
turn all the questions with which metaphysical philosophy is 
conversant, so as to exhibit their abstract character, would be a 
long, and, it may be, an unprofitable undertaking. I shall not 
attempt it, as the fact, perhaps, is apparent enough from a mere 
enumeration of the subjects, and because all of them which are 
immediately connected with my principal theme will come up 
for subsequent consideration. It will be enough for the present 
briefly to allude to a few of them, the purely ideal character of 
which may perhaps be questioned by some persons. 

Metaphysics distinguished from Psychology. — And here a 
distinction is to be made, as one portion of what is usually 
called the Philosophy of Mind is certainly occupied with mat- 
ters of fact, and comes within the province of inductive reason- 
ing. Psychology is the latest designation in use, and perhaps 
the most convenient one, for that science which bears the same 
relation to mind,, that Anatomy and Physiology do to our corpo- 
real nature. Certainly there are facts of consciousness, no less 
than those which are evident to sense ; the human mind, to a 
certain extent, is a subject of observation and experiment, as the 
supposed seat or origin of various phenomena, that admit of 
number, arrangement, and classification. These phenomena, 
again, are not produced fortuitously, or at random, but are sub- 
ject to fixed laws, more or less obvious, that may be definitely 
expressed. I need only refer to the great laws of association, 



28 PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY. 

or suggestion, which every one has occasion to observe who 
seeks to call up subjects that are related to each other, or to 
discipline his memory. The phenomena of mind, also, are often 
complex, and need to be analyzed and reduced to their simplest 
elements. Imagination, for instance, is a compound faculty, 
embracing simple suggestion, conception, or the picturing forth 
of an object, abstraction, and the power of forming novel com- 
binations from the elements thus obtained. 

I speak of this science as confined entirely to mind, without 
forgetting that one important point in it is the question, whether 
there be any such separate existence as mind distinct from 
matter. If this question be determined in the negative, it would 
appear, at first sight, that no division can be made, — that there 
is no room for any science separate from that which treats of 
the laws and properties of bodies. Yet the subject is not really 
affected by the determination of this doubt. Every one is con- 
scious of thinking, reasoning, willing, — of pleasure, love, and 
hatred; and these qualities or phenomena are wholly unlike 
bulk, figure, extension, and other qualities usually attributed to 
matter. Now we do not need to assume, in the outset, that 
there is a separate existence, or entity, in which the first class 
of these attributes inhere. There is no doubt that the two sets 
of phenomena are perfectly distinct from each other ; there is 
no danger of confounding them. Avoiding all hypotheses and 
mooted questions, therefore, it may be said that psychology, 
treating of those facts which we learn from consciousness, is a 
branch of physical science, the other subdivisions of which relate 
to those facts which come to our knowledge through the senses. 

Metaphysics treats exclusively of the relations of ideas. — But 
it is certainly no part of psychological inquiry to seek after the 
origin of our notion of cause, or to analyze our idea of infinity. 
Observation cannot aid us here. In the external world, and 
in the succession of our thoughts, we witness only events or 
changes ; we observe only sequences of phenomena ; and to 
bind together the two terms of a sequence in the relation of 
cause and effect is the work of pure reason, unaided by the per- 
ceptive faculty. So, also, whatever we observe, whether in 






PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY. 29 

external nature or in the world within us, is finite, limited, and 
contingent ; the idea of infinity is superadded by reason, tran- 
scending the sphere of sense and reflection, and baffling even 
the power of the imagination to seize or comprehend it. Our 
ideas, moreover, of space and time are abstract conceptions, 
which rise, indeed, on occasion of experience, but cannot be 
deduced from experience, nor explained by its teachings. To 
speculate on these things is the work of metaphysical philosophy 
properly so called, — of that science which goes beyond facts to 
principles, which begins from intuitions and ends in demonstra- 
tive certainty. 

Tfte scope and purpose of Ontology explained. — It may be 
said, however, that metaphysical inquiries are not concerned 
exclusively with relations of ideas, since Ontology, which is an 
important and the most abstruse branch of this science, relates 
avowedly, and as its name imports, to real entities, which are 
conceived to exist out of the mind, or independently of thought. 
I answer, that the realities which are the objects of ontological 
inquiry are few in number, and, though supposed to exist out of 
the mind, they are known to us only as abstract conceptions ; 
and the sole purpose of Ontology, the only problem which it 
attempts to resolve, is the question whether they are realities or 
not. This point cannot be ascertained by observation and ex- 
periment, which are the great instruments of physical inquiry ; 
it can be determined only by studying the relations of our ideas. 

Take, for instance, the idea of material substance, which we 
conceive of only as the unknown something that supports and 
manifests certain qualities, even these qualities being known to 
us only as the hidden causes of certain sensations, or states of 
mind ; and this idea, these states of mind, are the only media 
the study of which can furnish an answer to the question as to 
the reality of this substance. Aristotle calls this substance " the 
primary matter," to distinguish it from the secondary forms of 
matter, that are the only objects of which we take cognizance 
through the senses. " The primary matter," be says, *' is that 
without which nothing could formally exist. It is neither earth, 
nor air, nor fire, nor water. It is neither hot, nor cold, nor dry, 

3* 



30 PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY. 

nor moist, nor solid, nor extended. It is the universal element, 
but can never become objective to sense." How, then, can we 
obtain a view of this elementary being ? " We gain a glimpse 
of it," says the learned author of Philosophical Arrangements, 
" by abstraction, when we say that the first matter is not the 
lineaments and complexion, which make the beautiful face ; nor 
yet the flesh and blood, which make those lineaments and that 
complexion ; nor yet the liquid and solid aliments, which make 
that flesh and blood ; nor yet the simple bodies of earth and 
water, which make those various aliments ; but something which, 
being below all these, and supporting them all, is yet different 
from them all, and essential to their existence." Certainly, this 
idea is a pure abstraction, quite as much so as the infinitesimal 
quantities of the algebraist ; and though reality may be predi- 
cated of it, if we believe in its existence, it is only in the same 
sense in which quantities infinitely small may be said actually 
to exist anywhere in measurable extension. 

Instances of the corruption of physical science by metaphysical 
ideas. — And here, it may be observed in passing, we have an 
illustration of the radically vicious method in which the ancients 
undertook the study of nature ; omitting altogether the observa- 
tion of particular facts, and seeking to deduce from grand but 
vague abstractions, like this of " the primary matter," the indi- 
vidual truths which they disdained to collect from patient induc- 
tion. It was as if a botanist should attempt to evolve by medi- 
tation the grand archetypal idea of a plant, from which to 
deduce, by logical analysis and strict demonstrative reasoning, 
the several forms which all existing plants must assume. We 
ought not rashly to infer that there is no longer any danger of 
committing flagrant mistakes like this in the pursuit of knowl- 
edge. Error tends to come round in cycles ; and the reaction 
against the Baconian method, to which I alluded in the last 
chapter, has given some currency to speculations in natural 
science which seem the legitimate descendants of the reveries 
of the schoolmen. Take, for instance, the infant science of 
Morphology, applied to animals by Geoffroy St. Hilaire, and to 
plants by Goethe, and which has recently been made popular, 



rniLOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY. 31 

at least in some of its applications, by the author of the " Ves- 
tiges of Creation." According to this speculation, " plants and 
animals, in the process of growing up from their germs, have a 
tendency to develop themselves in a much more uniform man- 
ner than they in fact do ; and the differences — for example, of 
leaf, flower, and fruit — are mere modifications of one general 
phenomenon." The theory assumes, that the type, or grand 
purpose of nature, though constantly struggling to manifest it- 
self, is realized only in a few cases, which are admitted mon- 
strosities, the system resting on these, and the induction from a 
few anomalous instances thus overriding the conclusion derived 
from the great majority of cases. The doctrine naturally suc- 
ceeds, that all the races of animals tend, as it were, to pass into 
each other, in their progress to or from the typical creature, 
which forms either the commencement or the end of the scale. 
The distinctions of species thus disappear, races cease to be per- 
manent, and man acknowledges fraternity, or a common pedi- 
gree, with the reptile and the brute. A purely speculative 
notion is here superinduced upon the inductions of experience/ 
though a lingering respect is still manifested for the Baconian 
method, the theory being defended by a spurious induction from 
a few monstrosities. And this view we are invited to entertain 
as a substitute for the doctrine of final causes ! * 

The question, whether the external world exists, is virtually 
metaphysical. — But this is a digression ; I return to the only 
other question in metaphysical science which it is necessary to 
consider here, as a seeming exception to the doctrine that this 
science is concerned exclusively with the relations of abstract 
ideas. I refer now to the discussion respecting the real exist- 
ence of the external world, a question distinct in some respects 
from the one already noticed respecting the abstract conception 
of material substance. And here a distinction is to be made 
between the popular belief and the philosophical doctrine, or 



* Schiller made the best criticism upon this theory, when it was first 
explained to him by Goethe, who was one of its earliest advocates, if not 
its inventor. " This," said Schiller, " is not an obswation, but an idea." 



32 PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY. 

rather between the causes that actually create our assent to the 
proposition, and the reasons by which, when subsequently called 
upon, ice undertake to justify that assent. Certainly, to all 
minds not yet accustomed to philosophical inquiries, the exist- 
ence of an external world is a fact, and, as such, is learned by 
induction. There can be no reasonable doubt, I think, that the 
sensations of an infant are not accompanied by what we call 
perception; that they are not referred by it to an external 
cause ; that they give it no information at first respecting out- 
ward realities, but are to it merely so many sources of pleasure 
or pain. By a gradual process, that is, by induction, finding that 
the sensations recur in a fixed order under given circumstances, 
that they are wholly independent of the will, that muscular ex- 
ertion can sometimes be made without restraint, and at others, 
is checked or resisted by a foreign obstacle, the infant mind 
comes at last to a conception of outward things, or of existences 
foreign to itself. 

Whether this induction is so complete, that we can consider 
the independent existence of brute matter as proved by it, is 
another question. It does prove, that there must he some cause 
of these sensations, which cause is foreign to our own minds ; 
and this is enough to disprove the monstrous idealism of Fichte, 
that we create every thing from ourselves, though the doctrine 
of Berkeley remains quite as plausible as the vulgar belief, and 
rests, perhaps, on a more philosophical basis. Those who ridi- 
cule it, it is safe to say, do so from ignorance of its true charac- 
ter ; and this remark will apply even to the great English mor- 
alist, who, when teased by his biographer about this doctrine, 
undertook to decide the case in his own peculiar manner. " I 
never shall forget," says Boswell, " the alacrity with which Dr. 
Johnson answered, striking his foot with mighty force against a 
large stone, till he rebounded from it, — 'I refute it thus.'" 
The argument implied in this act proves nothing but the es- 
sential shallowness of Johnsonian dogmatism ; for it is an appeal 
to facts, to sensible evidence, to settle an abstract philosophical 
question. As mooted by philosophers, this question refers to 
the objective validity of our abstract idea of outward things, and 



PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY. 33 

as such it must be settled, if at all, by metaphysical reasons ; 
and he who brings into this discussion the testimony of the 
senses, acts quite as absurdly as a metaphysician would do, who, 
by his abstract speculations, should undertake to confound a 
common man's belief in the reality of things about him.* Here, 
as everywhere else, the physical fact rests upon its appropriate 
inductive evidence ; while the philosophical question must be 
treated philosophically, or by metaphysical considerations. The 
speculative attempts, extended, modified, and perpetually recur- 
ring through the whole history of philosophy, to demonstrate the 
independent existence of matter, have left the question precisely 
where it was, — have created nothing but an interminable 
logomachy, or war of words, between the realists and the ideal- 
ists. The result of this warfare was pithily summed up by Dr. 
Brown, when speaking of the two great champions in Scotland 
of the opposite doctrines on this subject : " Reid bawled out, 
* We must believe in an external world,' but added in a whisper, 
' I own we can give no reason for this belief ;' Hume cried out, 
' We cannot prove the existence of matter,' but he whispered, 
' I confess we cannot help believing it.' " f 



* The idealist doubts not the reality of ideas and sensations, as such. 
Nature exists for him also, but only in his own mind. He fully believes 
the uniformity of her laws, — that like causes will produce like effects. 
He is confident, for instance, that the idea of falling from a precipice will 
be followed by the idea of exquisite pain ; and if he has common sense, he 
will avoid those volitions which, as constant experience has taught him, 
will lead to its occurrence. He does not, it is true, fear the fracture of a 
bone ; for he thinks there are 'no bones to break. But he dreads the con- 
ception of such an injury, and the pain which must attend such a concep- 
tion. Since we are no further interested in our bodily frame than as it is 
a source of pleasure or pain, and as these feelings belong, not to matter, 
but to mind, the idealist is no more chargeable with inconsistency than 
one who attempts to prevent the recurrence of a painful dream. 

t The question about the reality of the external world is very fairly 
stated by Prof. De Morgan, in the second chapter of his " Formal Logic." 

" That our minds, souls, or thinking powers, (use what name we may,) 
exist, is the thing of all others of which we are most certain; each for 
himself. Next to this, nothing can be more certain to us, each for himself, 
than that other things also exist ; — other minds, our own bodies, tho 



34 PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY. 

Nature and logic of religious belief. — Enough has been said 
to show the true purpose of metaphysical philosophy, the nature 
of the subjects with which it is conversant, the kind of reason- 
ing employed, and the proper limits of the discussion. Let us 
pass on, then, to a precisely similar inquiry respecting religion. 
What is the nature of religious belief, properly so called ? and 



whole world of matter. But between the character of these two certainties, 
there is a vast difference. Any one who should deny his own existence, 
would, if serious, be held beneath argument ; he does not know the mean- 
ing of his words, or he is false or mad. But if the same man should deny 
that any thing exists except himself, that is, if be should affirm the whole 
creation to be a dream of his own mind, he would be absolutely unanswer- 
able. If I, (who know he is wrong, for /am certain of my own existence,) 
argue with him, and reduce him to silence, it is no more than might hap- 
pen in his dream. (It is not impossible that, in a real dream of sleep, 
some one may have created an antagonist who beat him in an argument 
to prove that he was awake.) A celebrated metaphysician, Berkeley, 
maintained that, with regard to matter, the above is the state of the case ; 
that our impressions of matter are only impressions, communicated by the 
Creator without any intervening cause of communication. 

" Our most convincing communicable proof of the existence of other 
things, is, not the appearance of objects, but the necessity of admitting 
that there are othei- minds besides our own. The external inanimate ob- 
jects might be creations of our own thoughts, or thinking and percep- 
tive function ; they are so sometimes, as in the case of insanity, in which 
the mind has frequently the appearance of making the whole or part of its. 
own external world. But when we see other beings, performing similar 
functions to those which we ourselves perform, we come so irresistibly to 
the conclusion that there must be other sentients like ourselves, that we 
should rather compare a person who doubted it to one who denied his 
own existence, than to one who simply denied the real external existence 
of tbe material world. 

" When once we have admitted different and independent minds, the 
reality of external objects (external to all those minds) follows as of course. 
For different minds receive impressions at the same time, which their 
power of communication enables them to know are similar, so far as any 
impressions, one in each of two different minds, can be known to be sim- 
ilar. There must be a somewhat independent of those minds, which thus 
acts upon them all at once, and without any choice of their own. This 
somewhat is what we call an external object; and whether it arise in 
Berkeley's mode, or in any other, matters nothing to us here." 



PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY. . 35 

by what kind of testimony is it supported ? Are we here con- 
cerned with realities, or with abstract speculations ? and do we 
look to demonstration, or to moral certainty, as the result of the 
inquiry ? The question is not yet, be it observed, whether the 
belief is legitimate, or the testimony sufficient ; of that, here- 
after. I do not now ask whether religion be true, but how we 
are to prove or to disprove it ; what arguments are to be admit- 
ted into the discussion, and what considerations shut out as 
irrelevant. I use the word religion here in its most compre- 
hensive sense, including both theology, as a system of doctrines 
and principles, and practical piety. 

The being of a God is a fact. — The central truth of religion, 
on which all its other doctrines and its practice depend, is the 
being of a God. Is there, in very truth, a creating and sustain- 
ing Deity, or is this universe an orphan, and we, most miser- 
able, but accidental formations from the clod, living only to con- 
sume life, relying on no support but our own strength, and look- 
ing forward to painless extinction as the happiest possible termi- 
nation of our short and troubled career ? Surely, we are able 
to say, that the Divine existence, if proved, is a fact, and the 
most momentous of all facts ; it is at once the most consoling 
and the most awful of all realities. I do not forget that the 
name of the Supreme Being is often vaguely used ; because it is 
said that his existence is a mystery, and his essence is unknown, 
for the finite creature cannot comprehend the Infinite. So 
neither can we comprehend ourselves ; our own existence is a 
mystery, and .we are surrounded with problems that we cannot 
solve. The lowest and the highest manifestation of life is alike 
a secret that bafiles the most cunning researches of science ; we 
can describe, meagrely and imperfectly, it is true, but we cannot 
explain it. If no knowledge is admissible, or deserves Jits name, 
except it be perfect, then indeed we are doomed to hopeless and 
perpetual ignorance. In this respect, the grand dogma of the 
being of a God is on a par with the simplest fact of physiology, 
or with a belief in the actual existence of any fellow-mortal 
whom we have never seen. 

Different conceptions of a Deity . — But I go much further; 



36 * PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY. 

considered as a truth of religion, the being of a God is a suffi- 
ciently definite and intelligible fact, to enable us to pronounce at 
once on the general character of the evidence by which, if at 
all, it must be proved. If we discard all notion of an overruling 
Providence, and adopt only the Epicurean idea of the Supreme 
Being, as one sitting apart from his works, and allowing them 
to go on without interference, oversight, or regard, then indeed 
the question concerning the reality of such an existence is one 
of pure curiosity, to be ranked with other problems in science, 
as a matter of no immediate interest except to the student. We 
may sublimate that existence into an abstract conception, or iden- 
tify it with material nature ; and as either alternative is adopted, 
we may attempt to support it by physical or metaphysical rea- 
soning. But the religious aspect of the subject compels us to 
bring down the question to the actual existence of a Moral Gov- 
ernor of the world. We care not whether the dogma, considered 
simply as a fact or a proposition in science, be established or re- 
futed. Our only interest in the matter, looking at it not as 
philosophers, nor as students of science, but as men, arises from 
the influence which the fact, if proved, will have upon our con- 
duct and the regulation of our hearts and lives. The question 
does not affect us, unless it be understood to relate to the being 
of a personal God, the Creator of heaven and earth, really distinct 
from nature, though pervading it with his presence, all-wise and 
all-powerful, the conscious Cause and present Rider of all things. 
I am not taking these attributes for granted, but simply stating 
the question, — the only question which, as moral beings, we are 
concerned to answer. Whatever might be made of the philo- 
sophical conception of a Deity, or however curious and interest- 
ing to the merely rational mind, might be the solution of the 
problem respecting the mode of his existence, or the reconcile- 
ment of his attributes with each other, it does not affect us, con- 
sidered simply as seekers after religious truth, or as endeavoring 
to satisfy the longings of that religious sentiment which, like the 
desire for society, or the domestic affections, or the inherent 
love of right, I firmly believe to be a constituent and ineradi- 
cable principle of human nature. The proper object of that 



PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY. 37 

sentiment is a person, a moral being ; its natural and even irre- 
sistible expression is in worship and prayer. "We must seek to 
gratify it, then, just as we might attempt, if suffering under a 
sense of loneliness, to appease our social cravings ; — first, to 
ascertain the fact that a companion can be found, and then to 
draw near to him in that spirit of loving trust, and, if necessary, 
of self-sacrifice, which will be sure to make him, when found, 
our friend. 

Demonstrative evidence not applicable in this inquiry. — We 
cannot, then, demonstrate the existence of a God. If there is any 
force in the considerations which I have tried to lay before you, 
this admission is not an alarming one. We do not here attempt 
to weigh the abstract argument for this end, and pronounce it to 
be weak or insufficient ; opinions might differ on this point ; we 
put it aside altogether, as illogical and irrelevant. It *has nothing 
to do with the matter in hand. We reject it for the same rea- 
son that an historian would reject, as an idle exercise of ingenu- 
ity, an attempt, made without any reference to the testimony of 
persons, books, or monuments, to prove, from abstract concep- 
tions and the laws of the human mind, that a great battle must 
have been fought nearly twenty-five hundred years ago on the 
plains of Marathon, and that the Grecian forces in this battle 
must have been commanded by a general called Miltiades. We 
say that metaphysical reasoning is inapplicable here, on the same 
principTC on which the chemist, when about to investigate, the 
affinities of a newly discovered substance, would refuse to sub- 
stitute pure mathematical analysis for the logic of the crucible, 
the scales, and the blowpipe. Pie would say, that the former 
mode of investigation was precluded by the nature of the case ; 
and as the selection of the proper means of research is a ques- 
tion of pure logic, which is itself one of the metaphysical sci- 
ences, it would not be going too far for him to assert, that he 
could demonstrate the inapplicability of demonstration. 

Why we seek to exclude metaphysical reasoning. — It may be 

asked, why I have taken so much pains with this preliminary 

matter, which is merely the logic of natural theology. Why 

seek to strike out abstract reasoning, and to bring the question 

4 



38 PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY. 

down to the limits and principles of the inductive method, so 
that our researches may be governed by the rules of physical 
inquiry ? Unquestionably, every sincere believer would be glad 
to accept a demonstration of the truths of religion, if it could be 
had ; why endeavor to cut him off even from the hope of a pos- 
sible future enlargement, in this way, of the grounds of his 
faith ? 

I answer, first, that it is of great importance so to arrange 
the system of our belief, that proofs of the same general char- 
acter may be classed together, and the relative strength of dif- 
ferent arguments may be clearly ascertained. They lose their 
proper weight in our estimation, if brought to a false standard, 
or tried by an insufficient test. A pretended demonstration of a 
matter of fact, if compared with the reasoning (jf Euclid or La- 
place, must appear, I do not say feeble, but illogical and false ; 
and the failure of a favorite argument is very likely to draw 
down with it, in the mind of the inquirer, all faith in the doc- 
trine itself, its other supports being then disregarded or held in 
light esteem. I would save the earnest seeker after truth from 
the anguish of disappointment, in looking after what cannot be 
found, and thereby enable him duly to appreciate the strength 
of the proofs within his reach. There can be no fears for the 
strength of our religious faith, if it stands upon the same plat- 
form with the whole round of the physical sciences, so that no 
assault can reach even its outworks until the entire rabric of 
these sciences shall be demolished, and it be made to appear 
that all the boasted attainments of the last three centuries in 
the study of nature have been unprofitable and vain. 

Kind and degree . of the theological proof — The theologi- 
cal argument is of the same hind with that which supports the 
conclusions of the physical inquirer; but it is superior, im- 
measurably superior, in degree. The proofs of design, for 
instance, which form the basis of one portion of this argument, 
are numerous beyond calculation. They are diffused every- 
where, — above, around, and within us. They are not drawn 
only from a few scratches on mountains of rock, or from fossil 
remains here and there dug up from the earth, put together with 



PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY. 39 

slow toil, and their history with difficulty spelt out. They do 
not rest on a few experiments carefully devised and with great 
labor repeated. The study of years is not required before their 
import can be made known even to a few, while the bulk of 
mankind must ever remain ignorant of the doctrine, or receive 
it on trust. These are difficulties with which the geologist, the 
chemist, the astronomer, must contend. But the marks of contriv- 
ance that form the language in which the sublime dogma of God's 
existence is written out fill the earth and skies, and are open 
alike to the most elevated and the meanest capacity. They are 
equally obvious in the structure of every blade of grass, and in 
the mechanism of the heavens. They exist alike in the object 
perceived, and in the percipient mind ; in the hand that fashions, 
the ear that hears, and the lungs that breathe. They are found 
in the bones of extinct races, and in the habits of all living 
things ; in the skeleton of the mammoth, and in the instinct 
which teaches the bee to frame its wonderful cell, and guides 
the waterfowl to its nest. The atmosphere, that wraps the 
earth in a garment, testifies His presence ; and the sun bears 
witness to Him who lighted up its fires. " There is no speech 
nor language where their voice is not heard. Their line is gone 
out through all the earth, and their words to the end of the 
world." 

Irrelevancy of metaphysical objections. — Secondly, we seek to 
confine this inquiry within its legitimate boundaries, because the 
grounds which justify the exclusion of metaphysical proofs show 
also the irrelevancy of metaphysical objections. It needs but 
little study of the evidences of natural religion to convince one, 
that the arguments which have been brought against the doc- 
trine of the being of a God, are, almost without exception, ab- 
stract or metaphysical in character. They are founded on 
alleged imperfections in our knowledge of cause and effect ; on \ 
a supposed inconsistency of the attribute of infinity with the 
moral qualities of God ; on the assumed inviolability of abstract 
but personified laws ; on the difficulty of conceiving of eternal 
duration, or of any person who is increate ; on the fallacy of 
reasoning from what is finite to what is infinite ; and last and 



40 PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY. 

chiefly, on the absence of demonstration itself, which, it is taken 
for granted, is quite as essential in this case as for establishing 
a proposition in geometry. To take away the whole basis of 
these objections, by showing that they are no more pertinent to 
the subject in hand than to the doctrines of physical science, is 
to contribute most effectually to the argument of the theist * 
If it be proved, that reasoning from such premises is nugatory 
and inapplicable, the very groundwork of the systems of Spi- 
noza, Hume, Kant, Fichte, and other modern infidels, is re- 
moved, and the superstructure falls. The philosophy which 
attempts to define and demonstrate all things, necessarily leads 
to fatalism. In the posthumous work of Spinoza, may be found 
the perfect, type of these demonstration-seeking systems, — 
systems which can never really transcend the sphere of the 
abstractions on which they are founded, and therefore never can 
consistently admit a Deity, except in that pantheistic sense 
which regards God as a pure idea, that is necessarily involved 
in all existence, and ends in an avowed identification of the 
Divinity with the material universe. The title of his book, 
" Ethics reduced to a Geometrical System, and proved by the 
Geometrical Method," answers to its contents; as he. begins 
with a list of axioms and definitions, and proceeds, by a series 
of theorems and proofs, to that doctrine of atheistic fatalism 
which has been the seminal principle of the infidel philosophy 
of Germany down to the present day. 

Infidel systems compared with ancient mythology. — I have no 
fears for the security of the theist's faith, when it rests on the 
same basis with all the doctrines of natural science, and with all 



* " If Christianity be a system of metaphysical deductions, it must of 
course maintain itself among other principles of the same class ; and must 
bring all its positions into accordance with them ; or must vanquish them 
with the weapons of scholastic warfare, and must appeal to abstract truths 
on every occasion of controversy. But if it be simply and solely a matter 
of history (as to its truth), and of verbal affirmation (as to its doctrines), 
then nothing can be more enormous than the attempt to bring the general 
fact, or the particular affirmations, into collision with the principles of 
metaphysical science." — Taylor's Introduction to Edwards on the WiU, p. 140. 



PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY. 41 

the conclusions which govern the daily conduct of men. To 
distrust such evidence, or to be incapable of acting upon it, is 
the common test of the folly that borders upon idiocy ; and to 
such an unbeliever, therefore, may be literally applied the words 
of Scripture, " The fool hath said in his heart, There is no God." 
The infidel systems of modern philosophy agree very nearly 
with the mythology of the ancients, which admitted "Fate, 
Chance, Nature, Time, Space, to be real beings, — nay, even 
gods." " Mankind in all ages," says Mr. J. S. Mill, " have had 
a strong propensity to conclude, that, wherever there is a name, 
there must be a distinguishable separate entity corresponding, 
and every complex idea, which the mind has formed for itself by 
operating upon its conceptions of individual things, was consid- 
ered to have an outward objective reality answering to it." 
" This misapprehension," he goes on to say, " of the import of 
general language, constitutes Mysticism, a word so much oftener 
written and spoken than understood. Whether in the Vedas, 
the Platonists, or the Hegelians, mysticism is neither more nor 
less than ascribing objective existence to the subjective creations 
of the mind's own faculties, to mere ideas of the intellect ; and 
believing, that, by watching and contemplating these ideas of its 
own making, it can read in them what takes place in the world 
without." In religion, it may be added, this Mysticism leads to 
the most subtile of all forms of idolatry, — the only one, indeed, 
that is now practicable among a civilized people, — the deifica- 
tion of an idea, the apotheosis of an abstraction.* 

The immortality of the soul is a fact. — The proposition, that 
all the fundamental truths of religion relate to matters of fact, 
and must be established, if at all, by moral reasoning, leads us 
to look beyond the belief in the being of a God, and to inquire 

* Thus M. Cousin talks with perfect consistency about demonstrating the 
existence of a God, for he not only reasons from pure abstractions, but 
avowedly identifies the object of his inquiry with an abstract idea. Ac- 
cording to his theory, the three elements of pure Reason — the idea of the 
Finite, the Infinite, and the relation between them — do not afford a pas- 
sage to the Divine existence, "for these ideas are God himseJf." These three 
elements, " a triplicity which resolves itself into unity, and a unity which 
4* 



42 PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY. 

if it holds true, also, of the doctrine of the immortality of the soul. 
I pass over the evidences of the moral government of the Deity, 
as unnecessary to be considered here ; since it is obvious that 
they must consist in a copious induction of examples, to prove 
that the reward of virtue and the punishment of vice are the 
great objects of all the general laws by which the world is 
governed. The only argument brought against this doctrine, 
being an enumeration of cases of a seemingly promiscuous dis- 
tribution of happiness and misery in this life, is an application 
of the rules of physical inquiry, so that abstract reasoning is 
admitted to be out of place on either side. These apparent 
exceptions, this allotment of good and evil in a measure which 
often does not correspond with our sense of merit and demerit, 
create a presumption, it is said, that the scheme of moral gov- 
ernment, which has only its beginning here, will be completed 
in a future state. 

If the immortality of the soul did not open so attractive a field 
for general disquisition, it would be difficult to conceive of it as 
supported by abstract arguments, or as clouded by metaphysical 
doubts and difficulties. " If a man dies, shall he live again ? " 
The question here relates to a fact of the second order, to an 
event which is to take place, a future occurrence ; if the present, 
or actual, existence of the mind or person is a fact, so also is its 
future existence. Our means of answering the question, too, 
are more limited and imperfect in this case, than would suffice 
for the establishment of any fact in physical science. As it 
relates to the, future, we can have no sensible evidence of it; 
and as the grave confessedly does not give up its dead to our 
bodily apprehension, the testimony of others, except so far as 
they speak of a revelation, is also set aside. The axiom re- 



develops itself into triplicity," constitute the Divine Intelligence itself, — 
the triajuncta in uno, the mystery of the Godhead. Those who are satisfied 
with this conception of the Deity, can accept also Cousin's demonstrative 
proof of His existence. But for our own part, we want words to express 
our indignation at this impious harlequinade of words, — this mode of 
binding together three dry sticks of abstract ideas, and then baptizing the 
miserable fagot as God. 



PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY. 43 

specting the uniformity of nature, which is the usual foundation 
of our reasonings from the past to the future, cannot aid us here ; 
because we are not asking now, whether it is probable that an 
observed law of nature will continue in force ; the question is, 
whether there has ever been such a law, whether a messenger 
has ever come back to us from that invisible bourne. Accord- 
ingly, it is distinctly admitted by the most judicious writers on 
natural theology, that the argument, after all, is but a series of 
presumptions, which we indulge the more readily, because the 
conclusion to which they point is one in which all persons wil- 
lingly acquiesce ; it agrees with the involuntary shrinking of the 
rational mind from the idea of utter extinction. Most of these 
presumptions were as well stated by the ancient philosophers, — 
by Socrates, and Plato, and Cicero, — as by the moderns. The 
use of such speculations is not to establish the truth of the point 
in question, but to refute the objections which have been urged 
against the possibility of the event. It can be shown, that the 
dissolution of the body does not necessarily lead us to infer the 
extinction of the soul, but that the presumption lies the other 
way. It is in this moderate form that the argument from the 
light of nature is stated by Butler, and it would have been well 
if Clarke had imitated his reserve. Immortality is no part of 
the positive teachings of nature ; to Revelation alone, can we 
look for light and life beyond the grave. 

Some unsatisfactory conceptions of immortality. — I take no 
account of those extraordinary speculations, which suppose the 
soul of man to be a ray or emanation from the Deity, which, at 
the dissolution of the body, will again be absorbed into its 
source. " This seems," says Mr. Stewart, " to have been the 
opinion of many of the ancient Stoics ; and a similar idea has 
been adopted by some philosophers in modern times, who have 
compared the soul, when joined to the body, to a small portion 
of the sea inclosed in a vial ; and, when separated from it, to the 
same water, confounded and intermixed, by the breaking of the 
vial which contained it, with the ocean from which it was first 
taken." This is but one of the applications of the doctrine of pan- 
theism ; and those who can give up the belief in a personal God f 



44 PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY. 

may be satisfied with this conception of the soul's futurity. But 
to others, the loss of distinct consciousness and personal identity 
or individuality, which is implied in this theory, will cause the 
doctrine to appear little more consoling than a belief in the ter- 
mination of all things at the grave. The admitted physical fact, 
that of all the material particles which constitute the body at 
the instant of death, not one is lost, but all enter into new com- 
binations, and pass through a ceaseless round of growth and 
decay, gives us an idea of the perpetuity of our corporeal 
frames, which answers exactly to this pantheistic notion of the 
immortality of the soul. To speak of different minds being 
blended together and lost in one general mass of being, is to em- 
ploy a form of words which is only not injurious to sound doc- 
trine, because it is unintelligible and absurd. Existence is an 
abstract idea ; there is no such thing as existence in general, 
apart from individual beings, any more than there is such a 
thing as an audience existing separately from the men and 
women who compose it. To speak of the annihilation of these 
persons in their individual capacity, leaving their presence as a 
general assembly, is nonsense. To such an absurdity are we 
reduced by confounding abstractions with realities, or employing 
terms without attaching definite and distinct meaning to them. 

The light of nature does not prove immortality properly so 
called. — Yet we have been told, that it is " written legibly in 
Nature that man is an undying being," and every thing justifies 
us in saying, that, " if man were made to live for ever, the im- 
press of that intention must be distinctly visible in his very 
structure." Science, it is accordingly said, must decipher the 
marks which indicate this intention, and spell out the natural 
language in which every rational creature is labelled with the 
promise of immortality, just as it infers, from a mere fragment 
of a fossil bone, " the whole fashion of the animal to which it be- 
longed, its food, its mode and sphere of existence." But the 
history which is deciphered by the geologist and the comparative 
anatomist is that of the past; and not even in their boldest 
speculations, do they attempt to pry into the secrets of the 
future, — far less, to speak confidently of an endless duration to 



PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY. 45 

come. Science cau read the annals of former ages ; but it can- 
not " look into the seeds of time, and see what grain will grow, 
and what will not." The astronomer hesitates about pronounc- 
ing upon the future stability of the system of which our earth, 
is but a part, even on the supposition, that the laws which now 
seem to control its action shall continue forever in force, without 
restraint, limit, or interference from the Omnipotent hand which 
first established them. But v/ho shall say when His purpose 
shall be accomplished? or who shall scan the designs of the 
Almighty? The naturalist may declare, if he can, that the 
fiower shall droop and die at the end of a single season ; but he 
finds no evidence that the secret principle which now vivifies it, 
after it has ceased to hold these material particles together, shall 
yet continue to be, either animating other forms, or existing 
apart till time shall be no more. And mental science is equally 
barren of any distinct promise of the future ; the sharpest scru- 
tiny of the phenomena of mind, unguided by special revelation, 
leaves this doctrine of immortality precisely where it was in the 
speculations of antiquity, — a dim though glorious foreboding, a 
splendid doubt. 

TVe are not surprised, then, to find the author of the asser- 
tion just quoted rebuking those who conceive " of the eternal 
world as situated on the other side of the tomb," and telling 
them that eternity (i is here and now, — that they are in it, and 
that it is in them." It is all a juggle of words, then, which sub- 
stitutes a flight of rhetoric for the severe expression of a scien- 
tific or a religious truth, and reduces the immortality of the soul 
to .a figure of- speech. Unquestionably, it is a tolerable meta- 
phor to say, that in good deeds there is length of years ; but it 
is paltering with words, to hold up this trope as an enunciation 
or a proof of the doctrine that the soul shall never die. 

It is a fact that religion enjoins certain duties. — I need not 
give but one other illustration of the truth, that religion is 
founded entirely upon matters of fact, and must be supported, 
therefore, by moral evidence. Religion inculcates certain duties ; 
it enjoins some motives and modes of conduct, and forbids 
others, — and this, too, by the highest of all sanctions, the com- 



46 PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY. 

mand of God. These injunctions are, in great part, coincident 
with the moral precepts of our own hearts ; the Divine law 
ana" the law of conscience, whenever they meet, harmonize with 
^ach other, and, so far as they regard only the outward act, are 
reduced to one. Still, to the religious man, there is an additional 
sanction, a neiv source of obligatibn; the act, once deemed obliga- 
tory only from an instinctive perception of its rightfulness, now 
becomes a manifestation of obedience, a religious duty, an act of 
worship. Virtuous actions as such, or in themselves considered, 
are not religious deeds ; mere virtue must be consecrated by 
reference to the Divine will, before it can assume even a resem- 
blance to holiness. I do not say, that the moral sense is of im- 
perfect obligation, so that it must be buoyed up and enforced by 
the will of God, before its dictates are binding upon man. Right 
is of necessary and inherent obligation, anterior to all command. 
But the precept added gives another aspect to the duty, and 
creates a new joy in the fulfilment of it. A life which is irre- 
proachable before the world, which is warmed by all the kindly 
affections and elevated by a steadfast adherence to noble prin- 
ciples, is still an irreligious and godless one, if its acts are not 
sanctified by this reference to the Supreme Will.- This is but a 
definition of religion, the meaning of which, as shown by its 
etymology and its universal acceptance, is to religate, or to bind 
anew, to the performance of duty, by offering an additional 
motive and guide ; and this meaning constitutes the only pos- 
sible distinction between religion and mere morality. In the 
family, a rule obligatory in itself acquires a new claim to ob- 
servance from the command or wish of a parent, the motives *of 
obedience and love being thus added to our almost involuntary 
homage to conscience. So, in the great human family, the 
primal duties of life, — truthfulness, temperance, justice, and 
charity, — become alike more awful and engaging, — I do not 
say more binding, — because the performance of them is the 
declared will of our Heavenly Father. 

Observe, then, that the whole practice of religion depends 
upon our knowledge of this fact, that God has commanded us 
to do, or to abstain from doing, certain acts. It matters not 



PHILOSOPHY AND THEOLOGY. 47 

how this knowledge is obtained, whether by direct revelation, 
or by inferring the will of the Creator from the character ajid 
tendency of his works. In either case, the light of nature, or a 
Divinely appointed messenger, or a miracle,*announces to us a 
solemn, an awful reality, — that the moral law is His law, and 
transgression of it is violation of His command. I may even 
infer the fact only from my instinctive perception of the duty ; 
still, the inference is one that leads to a fact, and not to an 
abstract principle. I argue, not from one general law to 
another, but from a given effect to a particular cause ; not from 
one rule enforced by conscience to another rule enjoined by the 
Almighty, but from the fact that conscience speaks at all, to 
another fact that God also speaks, and that the voice of con- 
science is also the voice of God. 

The practice of morality distinguished from a belief in 
religion. — These views, I am well aware, are directly opposed 
to a theory now very popular with a certain class of minds, 
which tends, first, to identify revealed with natural religion, and 
next, to merge both in the practice of a sublime but rather 
indefinite morality. A pure life is held up as the only true 
criterion of a religious character, and then as the only desirable 
object of attainment. Especially has this disposition been man- 
ifested when treating of the nature and functions of conscience ; 
so that many earnest but injudicious persons have now become 
quite as fanatical, quite as bigoted, irrational, and intolerant, in 
regard to moral principle, as were formerly the wildest sect of 
the Puritans in respect to their religious faith. Reverence of 
their own nature seems to them quite as just and proper as rev- 
erence of the Deity, and a glowing though vague conception of 
virtue takes the place of religion as a guide of life. Nay, a 
sort of ecstatic contemplation of the mere ideas of duty and 
right has, with some, usurped the place of a practical manifesta- 
tion of these ideas in outward conduct ; and thus a species of 
Antinomianism has been established on ethical grounds, quite 
as absurd and dangerous as the same theory is, when nominally 
resting on Scripture. If these vagaries must exist, let them, at 
any rate, appear in their true character, and not borrow the 



48 THE IDEA OF SELF, OE PERSONAL EXISTENCE. 

name and garb of the faith which they dishonor. Religion is 
indeed an affair of the heart and the life ; but a belief in religion 
is an affair of the intellect. Impulses cannot take the place of 
convictions, nor can morality itself lind anywhere a sure and 
permanent support except in a recognition of its dictates as the 
commands of God. 



CHAPTER III. 

THE IDEA OF SELF, OE PERSONAL EXISTENCE. 

Summary of the last Chapter. — The object of the last chap- 
ter was to draw a dividing line between the provinces of Phi- 
losophy and Eeligion ; to show that the one was occupied with 
abstractions, and the other with realities ; and, accordingly, that 
they rested upon different species of evidence, and any confu- 
sion of the two was likely to be injurious to both. During the 
reign of Scholasticism, says Dr. Whewell. M it was held, without 
any regulating principle, that the Philosophy which had been 
bequeathed to the world by the great geniuses of heathen anti- 
quity, and the Philosophy which was deduced from and implied 
by the revelations made by God to man. must be identical : and, 
therefore, that Theology is the only true Philosophy." We do 
but invert this error in our own day. when the opinion of many 
seems to tend towards the conclusion, if indeed it be not openly 
avowed, that Philosophy is the only true Theology. Against 
this conclusion, I endeavored to show, by a very brief review of 
the questions that are chiefly considered by metaphysicians and 
by religions inquirers, that they differed as widely from each 
other as logic from history, so that reasoning from one to the 
other was not merely feeble and unsatisfactory, but irrational 
and absurd. The great truths of Eeligion are the being of a 



THE IDEA OF SELF, OK PERSONAL EXISTENCE. 49 

God, the moral government of the world, the immortality of the 
sold, and the promtdgation of certain duties as directly enjoined 
by the authority of God. These truths, I reminded you, — for 
no proof of a self-evident proposition is needed or possible, — 
are matters of fact, quite as muck so as the existence, at some 
antecedent time, of a certain political community upon this earth, 
the authority of its first magistrate, and the enactment of laws 
by its legislature ; that is, we rely upon sensible evidence, the 
testimony of others, and upon reasoning from effects to causes, 
— the usual media of physical and historical inquiry, — for 
establishing our belief in their reality. 

Statement of the question respecting our personal existence. — 
Considering these preliminaries as established, we approach 
now the body of the subject, and attempt to prove the particular 
facts in the case, and to free them from the metaphysical specu- 
lations and difficulties by which they have been encumbered. 
In seeking to know the relation of God to man, we must begin 
by an investigation, to some extent, of human nature itself, as 
our conclusions upon this point cannot fail to affect every part 
of the inquiry. What are we, considered as subjects of the Divine 
law, and what light is thrown by our physical constitution upon 
the purpose or end for ivhich we began to exist ? or is it likely 
that there was no purpose in the case, but that our creation was 
as objectless as the gambols of an infant, — a mere freak in 
the disposition of matter ? The common belief, that man is a 
complex being, made up of body and soul, has been disturbed 
by strange doubts respecting the possibility of any immaterial 
existence, and by arguments which go to destroy our confidence 
even in our personal identity, and consequently in our continu- 
ous responsibility to any authority. I do not say, that a solu- 
tion of all these doubts is absolutely necessary before the great 
truths of religion can be established. Dr. Priestley was a ma- 
terialist, yet he believed in the immortality of man ; he was a 
necessarian, but he held to human accountability ; and few who 
are familiar with his theological writings will deny, that he was 
even a profoundly religious person, whatever may have been his 
errors in scientific, political, or theological speculation. Still, it 

5 



50 THE IDEA OF SELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE. 

was for him to vindicate his own consistency ; in ordinary minds, 
if such opinions are not immediately destructive of all religious 
belief, they certainly tend to darken and perplex it, so that a 
consideration of them cannot properly be omitted here. The 
principles already laid down do not permit us to waive the dis- 
cussion as metaphysical, and therefore out of place ; for the 
point of inquiry is & fact, — the continued, identical, conscious 
existence of a human being, — his personality, — the reality of 
a man to himself. Metaphysical skepticism has gone so far, 
that, before undertaking to establish the existence of a God, we 
are called upon to prove our own existence. In considering the 
argument upon this head, lest I should be accused of breaking 
my own rules, let me remind you that the testimony of con- 
sciousness has been admitted to be as legitimate a source of 
knowledge in physical inquiry, as the evidence of the senses 
themselves. 

Common mode of distinguishing mind from matter. — In the 
attempt to disprove the doctrine of materialism, it has been 
usual to adopt the argument to which I briefly alluded in a 
former chapter ; — to say, that mind is the seat or subject of 
certain phenomena, which are entirely distinct from another 
class of attributes or qualities which inhere in matter. What 
the substance is, in either case, we cannot determine, for our 
knowledge both of mind and matter is merely relative. As 
" we know the one," argues Mr. Stewart, " only by such sensi- 
ble qualities as extension, figure, and solidity ; and the other by 
such operations as sensation, thought, and volition ; we are cer- 
tainly entitled to say, that matter and mind, considered as ob- 
jects of human study, are essentially different ; the science of 
the former resting ultimately on the phenomena exhibited to our 
senses ; that of the latter, on the phenomena of which we are 
conscious. Instead, therefore, of objecting to the scheme of 
materialism, that its conclusions are false, it would be more ac- 
curate to say, that its aim is unphilosophical." Accordingly, it 
is maintained to be " no more proper to say of mind that it is 
material, than to say of body that it is spiritual." 

Insufficiency of this distinction. — This argument may be 



THE EDEA OF SELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE. 51 

very well as far as it goes ; but it seems to me to be insufficient, 
and to be very like an attempt to console us for our imperfect 
knowledge of one thing, by reminding us of our total ignorance 
of another. Besides, as mind and matter are confessedly the 
only constituents or parts that make up the human being, it is 
rather humiliating to be told, that we have only a relative 
knowledge of ourselves. When informed that matter is only 
the unknown substratum of certain qualities, we may acquiesce ; 
for it has been shown that this idea of matter in general is a 
mere abstraction, and if it were lost altogether, it would be no 
serious privation, our knowledge of particular substances remain- 
ing precisely what it was before. But when a person is told 
that he is only an unknown something which feels, thinks, and 
wills, he is very likely to reluct at the conclusion, inasmuch as 
he considers his own existence, not as an abstraction, but a 
reality. The argument puts our knowledge of the material and 
the intellectual world exactly on a par, so that the idea of per- 
sonality is left unprovided for, or it is doubtful whether the 
body or the mind is the person. 

Second argument against materialism. — Let us look further, 
then, for an argument against materialism, founded on the abso- 
lute incongruity of mental phenomena with material organization 
or change. He who denies the existence of spirit must main- 
tain that ideas and emotions are evolved, in some unintelligible 
manner, by the action of some part of the body, — probably of 
the nerves or the brain. Now we cannot conceive of any 
changes in these organs corresponding to the infinite variety of 
mental phenomena, except by the motions of their parts. But 
motion is not thought ; the vibrations of the nerves, the agitation 
of the brain, the reciprocal action of infinitesimal particles on 
each other, is still bodily action, and not mental action. Grant- 
ing, for a moment, for the sake of argument, that they produce, 
or evolve, thought, they are not thought, any more than the 
striking of a hammer on a bell is sound, or than the opening of 
the eyes is vision. A cause can never be confounded with its 
effect, even though it be the real or efficient cause, and not a 
mere invariable antecedent or concomitant event. 



52 THE IDEA OP SELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE. 

Let me illustrate this point a little further. Chemists and 
mathematicians have long been occupied with researches and 
speculations concerning the nature of heat, or caloric ; at present, 
they can only say of it, that it is an invisible and imponderable 
agent or principle, which produces certain effects, — the words 
u agent " and " principle," be it observed, being used only for 
convenience of speech, and really betraying the ignorance of the 
speaker, who does not know whether heat is some subtile fluid, 
existing by itself, and tending constantly to an equilibrium by 
emission in straight lines ; or whether it proceeds from undula- 
tions, or certain changes resembling undulations, in a fluid which 
exists also ' for other purposes ; the heat in this case not being 
material, and never existing by itself, so that we should speak 
of a hot body or a cold one, just as we speak of a smooth sur- 
face or a rough surface, never supposing that smoothness is a 
substance, but an attribute. Now, suppose that some unin- 
formed person, observing that heat was always evolved when 
one body was rubbed against another, or when it was burned, 
or when it was condensed from a gaseous to a liquid, or from a 
liquid to a solid state, should say that the problem was solved, 
and that heat was unquestionably nothing but friction, or com- 
bustion, or condensation. A chemist would certainly say, that 
this person did not even understand the question; for to know 
that friction produced heat, was quite a different thing from say- 
ing that friction constituted heat. 

So the agitation of the brain may produce, or rather precede, 
or accompany thought ; but it does not constitute thought. Nay, 
it is not even so probable that the motion produces the thought, 
as it is that the thought produces the motion. Fear blanches the 
cheek ; but the paleness does not produce the fear, and, for a 
still stronger reason, does not constitute it.* 



* " When we say, that the force which holds the planets in their orbits is 
resolved into gravity, or that the force which makes substances combine 
chemically is resolved into electricity, we assert in the one case what is, and 
in the other case what might, and probably will, ultimately be, a legitimate 
result of induction. In both these cases, motion is resolved into motion. 
The assertion is, that a case of motion, which was supposed to be special, 



THE IDEA OP SELF, OK PERSONAL EXISTENCE. 53 

Hume's argument against the consciousness of personal exist- 
ence. — Here, again, the argument appears to be sound as far 
as it goes ; and it establishes a radical difference between the 
phenomena of mind and those of matter. Still, it does not sup- 
ply the means of tying those phenomena, as it were, together, 
or of building up that idea of personality, or self, against which 
the sophistry of Hume was chiefly directed. This subtile skep- 
tic directed his argument against our idea of individuality, or 



and to follow a distinct law of its own, conforms to and is included in the 
general law which regulates another class of motions. But from these and 
similar generalizations, countenance and currency hare heen given to at- 
tempts to resolve, not motion into motion, but heat into motion, light into 
motion, sensation itself into motion (as in Hartley's doctrine of vibra- 
tions) ; states of consciousness into states of the nervous system, as in the 
ruder forms of the materialist philosophy ; vital phenomena into mechani- 
cal or chemical processes, as in some schools of physiology. 

" Now I am far from pretending that it may not be capable of proof, or 
that it would not be a very important addition to our knowledge, if proved, 
that certain motions in the particles of bodies are among the conditions of 
the production of heat or light ; that certain assignable physical modifica- 
tions of the nerves may be among the conditions, not only of our sensations 
or emotions, but even of our thoughts ; that certain mechanical and chem- 
ical conditions may, in the order of nature, be sufficient to determine to 
action the physiological laws of life. All I insist upon, in common with 
every sober thinker since modern science has been definitely constituted, 
is, that it shall not be supposed that, by proving these things, one step would 
be made towards a real explanation of heat, light, or sensation ; or that 
the generic peculiarity of those phenomena can be in the least degree 
evaded by any such discoveries, however well established. Let it be shown, 
for instance, that the most complex series of physical causes and effects 
succeed one another in the eye and in the brain to produce a sensation of 
color; rays falling upon the eye, refracted, converging, crossing one 
another, making an inverted image on the retina, and after this a motion, 
— let it be a vibration or a rush of nervous fluid, or whatever else you are 
pleased to suppose, along the optic nerve, — a propagation of this motion 
to the brain itself, and as many more different motions as you choose ; 
still, at the end of these motions, there is something which is not a motion, 
there is a feeling or sensation of color. Whatever number of motions we 
may be able to interpolate, and whether they be real or imaginary, we shall 
still find, at the end of the series, a motion antecedent and a color conse- 
quent." — Mill's Logic, pp. 486, 487. 

5* 



54 THE IDEA OF SELF, OK PERSONAL EXISTENCE 

our consciousness of separate, personal existence. He reasons 
thus : — 

" When I turn my reflection on myself, I never can perceive 
this self without some one or more perceptions ; nor can I ever 
perceive any thing but the perceptions. It is the composition 
of these, therefore, which forms the self. Suppose the mind to 
be reduced even below the life of an oyster ; suppose it to have 
only one perception, as of thirst or hunger. Consider it in that 
situation. Do you conceive any thing but merely that percep- 
tion ? Have you any notion of self, or substance ? If not, the 
addition of other perceptions can never give you that notion. 
The annihilation, which some people suppose to follow upon 
death, and which entirely destroys this self is nothing but an 
extinction of all particular perceptions, — love and hatred, pain 
and pleasure, thought and sensation. Philosophers begin to be 
reconciled to the principle, that we have no idea of external sub- 
stance, distinct from the ideas of particular qualities. This must 
pave the way for a like principle with regard to the mind, that 
Ave have no notion of it, distinct from the particular perceptions. 
In short, there are two principles which I cannot render con- 
sistent, nor is it in my power to renounce either of them ; 
namely, that all our distinct perceptions are distinct existences, 
and thai the mind never perceives any real connection among dis- 
tinct existences. Did our perceptions either inhere in some- 
thing simple and individual, or did the mind perceive some real 
connection among them, there would be no difficulty in the case. 
For my part, I must plead the privilege of a skeptic, and confess 
that this difficulty is too hard for my understanding." 

So far the Scotch skeptic. What some call the mind, and 
others the person, is, to him, simply a succession of perpetually 
fleeting ideas or emotions, in nowise connected with each other, 
acknowledging no common ownership, and admitting no reality 
or actual being, except as each, during the moment of its con- 
tinuance, affirms its own existence. The mind is like a strin« 
of beads with the string taken away, each bead being seen or 
known to exist only by itself, and for its particular moment, as 
the direct knowledge of one must pass away before we can pos* 



THE IDEA OF SELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE. 55 

sibly gain a knowledge of another. For observe, that, on this 
theory, mind is really worse off than matter ; our idea of each 
is but a congeries of certain qualities ; but in the latter case, the 
qualities or attributes exist and are perceived together, or in a 
lump ; while in the former, they exist successively, only one 
being known at any one time. In fine, I have a certain sensa- 
tion or thought, of the reality of which, for the moment, there 
can be no doubt ; but it is a fallacy, says Hume, to suppose that 
this thought, which is a distinct existence, belongs to me, another 
distinct being, having a continuous existence. I am conscious 
of the thought, but not of the person thinking. 

Memory cannot prove personality. — I am anxious not to over- 
state Hume's theory, nor to understate his argument, and hope 
that I have done justice to both. Perhaps it is wrong to call it 
his theory ; Hume had no theory ; his only object was to dis- 
prove the theories and doctrines of other people. He says only 
that no other doctrine than this can be proved, — that is, demon- 
strated ; he acknowledges that the difficulty is too hard for his 
understanding. Now it is certainly an insufficient answer to 
his sophistry to maintain, as Dr. Brown and most of the other 
Scotch philosophers have done, that " our knowledge of mind is 
only relative" that " we know it only as susceptible of feelings 
that have already existed," and to throw the whole burden of 
solving the problem upon memory, by which one faculty, they 
say, " our mind, simple and indivisible as it truly is, is, as it 
were, multiplied and extended, expanding itself over that long 
series of sensations and emotions, in which it seems to live again, 
and to live with many lives." Memory is more easy to be dis- 
credited, than any other faculty, on account of the mistakes with 
w r hich it is often chargeable, — the frequent difficulty of distin- 
guishing between recollections and imaginations. A remem- 
bered thought differs from an original one in the single respect 
of its being accompanied by a belief that it was in the mind be- 
fore, and that it is now present for the second time. This belief 
cannot be substantiated, or proved ; it may be, it sometimes is, 
unfounded, — a vivid conception having taken the place of a 
reality. Memory alone, then, cannot establish beyond a doubt 



56 THE IDEA OP SELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE. 

the separate, continuous existence of self, — cannot fully support 
the idea of personality ; and I have already given reasons for 
saying, that the vague and abstract notion of substance, being 
assumed as the common substratum of material and intellectual 
phenomena, leaves it doubtful whether the body or the mind is 
the person. 

The fact of self-consciousness stated. — But we need not de- 
spair of the attempt to confirm our own personality against all 
metaphysical cavils, if we consider each particular personal 
existence as a fact, and then endeavor to prove it by the usual 
methods, of physical inquiry ; though the argument must de- 
pend, of course, on the facts of consciousness, and not on those 
furnished by the senses. Let me ask you, then, for a time, to 
discard the word mind, as the fruitful source of vague specu- 
lation and error, and to look at that of which it is a mere 
synonyme, — at the man himself* The sentient, thinking be- 
ing, which I call self, is an absolute unit. Duality or complexity 
cannot be predicated of it in any intelligible sense. Personality 
is indivisible ; " I " am one. Conceive of yourself, if you can, 
as divided into two persons, or as separated from yourself, or as 
multiplied in any manner whatever ; the supposition is an ab- 
surdity, and the language in which it is conveyed is immediately 
felt to be ludicrous. You can conceive of an arm, or a leg, or 
any part of the body, being separated from you ; there is no 
difficulty in that. But the idea of personality remains one and 
indivisible, sometimes to torture us with remorse for crime com- 
mitted long before, sometimes to sustain and cheer the drooping 
spirit, when all else is lost, with the assured hope, that this unity 
of being is indestructible, and shall survive the dissolution of the 
body and the grave. For the idea of personal identity and 
oneness alone supports the consciousness of responsibility ; the 

* " That \rliich is called 'I' is a living reality, and though mind were 
annihilated, it would remain a repository of given facts." Psychology, or 
the science of mind, ought rather to be called the science of man himself; 
for, as has been acutely observed, if my mind is not myself, then the uni- 
verse resolves itself into three orders of existence ; 1st, mind; 2d, matter; 
3d, what I call me, to whom the changes of the other two are known. 



THE IDEA OF SELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE. 57 

guilty man cannot escape from himself, though human law be a 
feeble and tardy avenger of wrong. 

Self has no plurality of organs or faculties. — This individual 
being, or self is capable of acting in different ways ; and for 
convenience of speech and classification, these modes of action 
have been arranged as the results of different faculties ; though, 
in truth, it is no more proper to attribute to the person distinct 
powers and organs for comparison, memory, and judgment, than 
to give to the body separately a walking faculty, a lifting fac- 
ulty, a jumping faculty, and so on. In the one case, these fac- 
ulties are but different aspects of the same mental power ; in the 
other, but different applications of the same muscular strength. 
To attribute to me the organ of memory, is no more than to say 
that / am able to remember, the person who remembers being 
one and the same with him who judges and feels. Yet this 
classification of mental phenomena seems to imply a complexity 
of being, and, for this reason alone, it has always furnished the 
chief support for the several theories of materialism. The 
groundwork of these systems entirely falls away, Avhen we con- 
sider that this division of organs is only verbal, as the real di- 
vision is of a plurality of functions exercised by the same being. 
Seeing differs from hearing, because two distinct organs of the 
body are exercised for different ends ; but when the two acts 
become entirely mental, as in the case of memory, the distinc- 
tion between them is done away ; I recall the features of a 
landscape with which I was once familiar, by the same kind of 
effort which brings to mind the successive notes of a strain of 
mus^c heard long ago. More facility may be gained by prac- 
tice with one class of recollections than with another ; this does 
not affect the nature of the process, but only its rapidity. 

Immediate consciousness of self — How we come to a knowl- 
edge of self or to this consciousness of personality, — whether 
mediately, by an act of judgment, knowing that each sensation 
or thought must have a substratum or substance in which it in- 
heres, and hence inferring what we are not directly conscious 
of; or whether we gain it zmmediately, being equally, and at 
the same moment, conscious of the sensation and of the sentient 



-r 



58 THE IDEA OF SELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE. 

being, — is a question that need not detain us long. A thought 
is but the phase, or aspect, for the moment, of the thinking be- 
ing ; it is but the abstract expression of the fact expressed in 
the words, " I think." If we speak of it as " a state of mind," 
the convenience of language compels us to regard it abstractly ; 
but looking upon it as an act, we consider the real occurrence 
in its entireness. Take one of the appetites, for instance ; to 
have " the sensation of hunger " is an abstract and general ex- 
pression, applicable to any number of cases ; but in any par- 
ticular case, it signifies nothing unless interpreted to mean " / 
am hungry." The subject and object of thought are thus in- 
separably blended together in every act of thinking, and can no 
more be separated from each other in reality than two polar 
forces. When we reflect upon a sensation that has passed away, 
we may consider it by abstraction, — first, in regard to the 
object, and then it is called a sensation of color, hardness, or 
something else ; or, secondly, in regard to the subject, and then 
I have a conception of self as performing some act, or experi- 
encing some affection. This apperception, as Leibnitz calls it, 
or direct consciousness of self seems to me an invariable con- 
comitant of mental action.* The attention, indeed, may be 
concentrated on the object of thought, and then the personal 
consciousness is not remembered. Just so, a -.person may be 
absorbed in a reverie while loud music is sounding near him, 
and pay no attention to it ; it is usually said, that he does not 
hear it ; but this cannot be, as his faculty of hearing remains 
unimpaired, the vibrations must reach his ears, and, in fact, if 

* Properly speaking, consciousness is an attribute, not of mind, but of me. 
"When mind is objectified, or made an object of thought, it is not mind which. 
is conscious of its own changes, but 'I' am conscious of those changes. 
" For to change and to be cognizant of change ; for a thing to be in a par- 
ticular state, and to be aware that it is in this state, is surely not one and 
the same fact, but two totally distinct and separate facts." Herein is a 
fundamental difference between matter and me; for matter is not cognizant 
of its own changes — is not aware of its state. 

Tor the substance of this note and the preceding one, I am indebted to 
some excellent articles on the Philosophy of Consciousness in " Blackwood's 
Magazine " for 1838. 



THE IDEA OF SELF, OK PERSONAL EXISTENCE. 59 

the music suddenly stops, lie is roused from Lis abstraction by 
the absence of the accustomed sound, just as one dozing in 
church is waked when the preacher has ended his sermon. In 
truth, he hears every note, but instantly forgets it, from the lack 
of attention ; and at the close, of course, he has forgotten the 
whole. Just so, a person thinking is never conscious of a 
thought without being conscious of himself at the same instant ; 
his attention may be directed either to the object or the subject, 
according to the wish or exigency of the moment. If laboring 
under acute pain, the phrase which expresses the state of his 
mind at any instant is, " I suffer ; " for the abstract sensation of 
pain would have no interest for him, except as self enters into 
or endures it. 

What is personality. — If this be the correct view, and I can 
see no valid objection to it, the idea of personality is fixed on 
an immovable basis. Self is an indivisible unit, — a monad, in 
technical phrase, — endowed with intelligence and activity ; and 
vje are directly conscious of it in itself, and in its passing 
into thought and act, without being compelled to infer its exist- 
ence from these manifestations. If we only inferred the sub- 
stance from the attributes, we could not conceive of it unless in 
the exercise of those attributes, — any more than we can con- 
ceive of matter without its qualities, without extension, form, 
solidity, or color. But we can conceive of our personal existence 
in the intervals both of thought and action. A consciousness of 
existence underlies the exercise of every function of mental 
life. The celebrated argument of Descartes, " I think, there- 
fore I am," has been objected to, and with reason, on the ground 
that the conclusion merely repeats what is, not merely implied 
in the premise, but formally stated in it. Thought is but a 
mode of action, and cannot be conceived as a reality without 
the agent, though it may be considered separately by abstrac- 
tion. * 

* From the writer, already cited, on the Philosophy of Consciousness, 
I borrow another illustration of the fact, that our knowledge of self is 
direct and immediate. 

" The child's employment of language previous to his use of the word 



60 THE IDEA OF SELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE. 

Why self cannot be defined. — But it is said that we cannot 
describe self, or give any definition of personality, except by 
enumerating its attributes, or the acts of which it is capable. 
Hence it is inferred, that we know nothing more of it than of 
matter, which can be described only as the unknown substratum 
of certain qualities that are evident to sense. But all simple 



' 1/ may be accounted for upon the principle of imitation, or, at any rate, 
it must be considered as a mere illustration of the general law of cause 
and effect. But neither association, nor the principle of imitation, nor any 
conceivable modification of the law of cause and effect, will account for 
the child's use of the word 'I.' In originating and using this term, he 
reverses or runs counter to all these laws, and more particularly performs 
a process diametrically opposed to any act of imitation. Take an illustra- 
tion of this. A child hears another person call a certain object ' a table ; ' 
and the power of imitation naturally leads him to call the same thing, and 
any similar thing, ' a table.' Suppose, next, that the child hears this per- 
son apply to himself the word ' I.' In this case, too, the power of imita- 
tion would naturally lead the child to call that man ' I.' But is this what 
the child does 1 No. As soon as he becomes conscious, he ceases, so far 
at least as the word ' I' is concerned, to be an imitator. He still appbes 
the word ' table ' to the objects to which other people apply that term ; and 
in this he imitates them. But with regard to the word ' 1/ he applies this 
expression to a thing totally different from that which he hears all other 
people applying it to. They apply it to themselves, but he does not apply 
it to them, but to himself; and in this, he is not an imitator, but the absolute 
originator of a new notion. 

" Is it objected, that, in the use of the word ' I,' the child may still be 
considered as an imitative creature, inasmuch as he merely applies to him- 
self a word which he hears other people applying to themselves, having 
borrowed the application of it from them 1 Oh ! vain and short-sighted 
objection ! As if this very fact did not necessarily imply and prove that 
he has, first of all, originated within himself the notion expressed by the 
word ' I,' (namely, the notion of his conscious self,) and thereby, and 
thereby only, has become capable of comprehending what they mean by it. 
In the use and understanding of this word, every man must be altogether 
original. No person can teach to another its true meaning and right appli- 
cation ; for no two human beings ever use it, or ever can use it, in the 
same sense, or apply it to the same being. The word ' I,' in my mouth, as 
applied to you, would prove me to be a madman. The word 'I,' in your 
mouth, as applied to me, would prove you to be the same. Therefore, I 
cannot, by any conceivability, teach you what it means, nor can you teach 
me." — Blackwood, vol. xliii. p. 790. 



THE IDEA OF SELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE. 61 

ideas are incapable of definition, and the only mode of describ- 
ing them is to enumerate the occasions on which they rise, or 
are suggested to the mind. Wherever there is complexity, the 
several parts can be distinguished, and a complete list of these 
will constitute a description of the object, which will be intelli- 
gible to one who has had no sensible evidence of its existence. 
But if the idea be simple, no account of it can be understood 
except by those who know it, or have had experience of it 
already. Colors are simple sensations, and the impossibility of 
defining or describing them is proved by the familiar fact, that 
no form of words can convey the slightest notion of them to 
a person blind from his birth. The word "green" may be 
explained by saying that it is the color of the foliage, or " blue " 
as the color of the sky ; and this is enough for one who has 
seen the aspect of external nature ; but it is no definition, and 
conveys no knowledge to him who has never had the faculty of 
vision. 

The idea of self belongs to the same category with all our 
simple sensations, and with the more abstruse ideas of time, 
space, motion, and the like. All are indefinable, because indi- 
visible ; they cannot be described, because they have no com- 
plexity of parts. But who doubts our knowledge, or questions 
the reality, of motion, or light, or time, because they cannot be 
explained by any form of words, or, what is the same thing, 
cannot be resolved into simpler ideas ? The unity of personality, 
then, which is the important point for present consideration, is 
established by the very argument which is brought to do away 
with the reality of the idea of person altogether. 

The ancient philosophers and the schoolmen were guilty of 
much solemn trifling, in their vain attempts to define these 
simple ideas. Thus " motion " was explained to be " the act of 
a being in power so far forth as in power ; " and " light " to be 
" the act of perspicuity so far forth as it is perspicuous." The 
inanity and uselessness of such definitions are now generally 
admitted, though Lord Monboddo attempted to defend them. 
It is justly observed by Locke, that " the modern philosophers, 
who have endeavored to throw off the jargon of the schools, and 

6 



62 THE IDEA OF SELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE. 

speak intelligibly, have not much better succeeded in denning 
simple ideas, whether by explaining their causes, or otherwise. 
The atomists, who define motion to be a passage from one place 
to another, what do they more than put one synonymous word 
for another ? For is it not at least as proper and significant to 
say, \ passage is a motion from one place to another,' as to say, 
' motion is a passage ? ' this is to translate, and not to define." 
The impossibility of defining or describing an idea, therefore, is 
no argument against the existence, either of the idea, or of the 
thing to which it corresponds, or against our having a distinct 
knowledge of it as a reality. Personality, or self, is as fully 
known, and as distinctly conceived, as motion or light. 

No analogy between the qualities of matter and the acts of 
mind. — There is another reason for denying this parallel 
between mind and matter, in which it is assumed, that our 
knowledge of each is merely relative. Material substance, it is 
true, is known to me only as something which is extended, 
figured, colored, hard, etc., these qualities being all conceived 
to exist together, or at the same moment ; and the conception 
of these qualities being taken away, nothing remains, — at any 
rate, nothing which is distinct and conceivable. Now mind or 
person may be described in a parallel manner, as something 
which thinks, feels, wills, judges, etc. ; but these are not quali- 
ties, not attributes, but acts ; and they are not conceived to 
exist together, or to be performed all at the same moment ; they 
are done successively, and what is really attributed to the per- 
son at any one moment is, not the acts themselves, but the 
capacity of performing those acts. Of course, I can conceive 
of the person when this capacity is latent, or not exerted, — that 
is, of mind in the intervals both of thought and action. But I 
cannot conceive of any particular body except as the seat of all 
its attributes, and as continually manifesting these attributes. 
Imagine, if you can, a lump of matter, which has no extension, 
no figure, no solidity, no color, — none of its usual qualities. 
It is impossible. But you can conceive of yourself both as 
thinking, or as resting from thought ; as sentient, or with all the 
senses closed; as exerting a volition, or as entirely passive. 



THE IDEA OF SELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE. 63 

Stating the same argument in other terms, I say that reasoning 
from attributes or qualities to the substance which supports 
them, is a proper inference, that being inferred which is not 
directly known or perceived ; but from actions to an agent is 
no inference at all, but a mere descent from an abstraction to a 
reality, — the object of immediate knowledge or perception 
being, not the act, but the person acting. It is no inference 
from my perception of a triangle, to say that it has three angles ; 
this is a part of the perception, a part of the meaning or defini- 
tion of the word. But the existence of a luminous body some- 
where, though it be not directly seen, is an inference from the 
light which it diffuses, and which is seen. 

Self is one and indivisible. — I have dwelt at some length on 
this point, at the risk of seeming tedious and abstruse, because it 
is one of cardinal importance, and this doctrine respecting it has 
not been clearly set forth and defended, so far as I know, by any 
English writer on the philosophy of mind. It is the only view 
which seems to me to afford positive proof of the immateriality 
of the soul, or the person. Matter is essentially complex and 
divisible ; the smallest particle of it has still an upper and an 
under-side, and we can conceive of these two being separated 
from each other. Mind, or person, as already remarked, is es- 
sentially indivisible. The being which I call self or, to use the 
modern jargon, the me, is an absolute unit. For a person to 
speak of himself in the plural number, except as a figure of 
speech, is instantly perceived to be an absurdity, — as much so, 
as to speak of a round square. The doctrine of atoms, or ulti- 
mate particles in matter, however convenient it may be as an 
hypothesis, for representing the supposed groundwork of certain 
facts in chemistry, must always remain a hypothesis, alike inca- 
pable of proof, and even of distinct conception. " If the atomic 
theory be put forward," says Dr. Whewell, " as asserting that 
chemical elements are really composed of atoms, that is, of such 
particles not further divisible, we cannot avoid remarking, that, 
for such a conclusion chemical research has not afforded, nor 
can afford, any satisfactory evidence whatever." As a matter 



64 THE IDEA OF SELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE. 

of fact, no one will assert that we can arrive at ultimate parti- 
cles in matter, or have sensible evidence that they exist. 

The body is extraneous to the man himself. — Matter, then, is 
necessarily divisible, or complex, in all cases ; mind, or person, 
is necessarily indivisible; for a denial of the proposition "7 
am one" is not merely false, but absurd, this being a truth of 
intuition. An inevitable corollary from this doctrine is, that 
the complex material frame, with its numberless adaptations 
and arrangements, in which this being is lodged, is truly foreign 
from the man himself, having a kind of connection with him, in 
reality, but one degree more intimate than that of his clothes. 
The body is the curiously contrived machine through which the 
man communicates with the material world. It needs but little 
reflection to convince one, that his corporeal limbs and organs 
are but mechanical means and tools constantly within his reach, 
controlled by his single intelligence, and executing the behests 
of his undivided will, which is sovereign in its own domain. 
The eye is but his instrument to see with, the ear is his trumpet 
for communicating sound to him, the leg is his steed, and the 
arm his soldier. These outward organs and implements may 
tire in their uses, like willing servants that are yet overtasked ; 
they may be worn out, become palsied, and decay ; many of 
them may even be severed from the conscious agent whose 
property they are, yet the loss does not impair the sovereignty 
of his reason or the unity of his intelligence. The windows 
through which we look out upon the material world may be 
darkened, but the memory and the imagination are busy within, 
and the scenes which delighted our youth still pass before us 
in rapid and perpetual succession. Sleep relaxes the strained 
muscles, gives repose to the tired limbs, and shuts the wearied 
sense, the actual and material world to our apprehension ceas- 
ing to exist ; but the mind, the man, claims no rest from his ap- 
propriate toil, but pursues his task in the world of dreams. All 
the proper and exclusive functions of the soul are then dis- 
charged as readily and continuously as in our waking hours. 
Reason and recollection, judgment, fancy, the desires and the 



THE IDEA OF SELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE. 65 

affections, still exercise their office ; and the will, though it has 
lost control for a time of its actual servants through their fa- 
tigue, still governs an ideal kingdom, and spurs its fancied min- 
isters. There is no good reason to believe, that sleep ever ex- 
tends beyond the body, or suspends the exercise of a single 
function of purely intellectual life. 

This view of the body as something extraneous to the man, 
as alike his covering and his instrument, the house which he 
lives in, and the nicely fashioned apparatus that executes his 
will and gratifies his passions, appears to me so natural and 
obvious, that it seems difficult to account for the practical mate- 
rialism of common opinion on the subject. Even the respect 
which is paid to the remains of the dead, so far as it goes beyond 
the pleasing association which invests with a kind of sacredness 
every article or ornament once used by the loved and lost, — 
and in ordinary cases it goes much further, — seems alike irra- 
tional and unchristian. Many portions of the body may be 
removed, many of the organs become unfit for use, without im- 
pairing, in the slightest degree, the sufferer's conscious personal- 
ity and intelligence. The particles of the whole are in a state 
of constant flux and renovation, so that man changes his body 
only a little less frequently than he does his coat. 

Closeness of the temporary union of mind with body. — And 
viewed at any one moment, however close and intimate the 
union may appear, the body still seems to show its ministerial 
character, and to acknowledge in every part the sovereignty of 
one undivided and separate will. Sensation extends to every 
part of it, every fibre is instinct with life, and the dominion of 
the will is absolute and immediate over every muscle and joint, 
as if the whole fabric and its tenant were one homogeneous 
system. The mind tires not of its supremacy, and is not wea- 
ried with the number of volitions required to keep every joint 
in action, and every organ performing its proper function. It 
would not delegate the control of the fingers to an inferior power, 
nor contrive mechanical or automatic means for moving the ex- 
tremities. Within its sphere, it is sole sovereign, and is not 
perplexed with the variety and constant succession of its duties, 

6* 



66 THE IDEA OF SELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE. 

extending to every part of the complex structure of which it is 
the animating and directing spirit. Sensation is not cumbered 
with the multitude of impressions it receives, nor is the fineness 
of perception dulled by repeated exercise. The sharpness of its 
edge rather improves by use, and we become more heedful of 
its lightest intimations. This improvement, however, is wholly 
of the inner sense, the man's capacity being enlarged, while the 
external organ which is his instrument — the eye, for instance 
— is often injured and sometimes destroyed by excessive or 
unguarded use. "It does not appear," says Bishop Butler, 
" that the relation of this gross body to the reflecting being is in 
any degree necessary to thinking ; to our intellectual enjoyments 
or sufferings ; nor, consequently, that the dissolution or aliena- 
tion of the former by death will be the destruction of those pres- 
ent powers which render us capable of this state of reflection." 
This consideration, indeed, affords no proof, properly so called, 
that the mind is immortal ; but it rebuts the presumption, other- 
wise inevitable, that the death of the body is also the death of 
the soul. These rags of mortality, in which we are clothed, 
may fall off from us, and be mingled with their kindred dust ; 
but this proves only that we have no further use for them, and 
and it leaves unimpaired the probability, that death, like sleep, 
may be only the portal to a spirit land. 

I have heard of a recent case, in a town not far off, in which 
a young man, when just entering upon active life and the full 
duties of manhood, was attacked by the terrible disease which 
physicians call anchylosis, or stiffening of the joints. First one 
knee refused its office ; and as this was accompanied with great 
pain, and perhaps the nature of the complaint was mistaken, the 
leg was amputated, in the hope that the evil would stop there. 
But the disease soon passed into the other limb, stiffened the 
remaining knee, and then crept on slowly from joint to joint, 
making each inflexible as it passed, till the whole lower portion 
of the body was nearly as rigid as iron, and the muscles had no 
longer any office to perform. Gradually, then, it moved up- 
ward, leaving the vertebral column inflexible ; the arms and 
hands, which, in anticipation of its approach, had been bent into 



THE IDEA OF SELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE. 67 

a position most convenient for the sufferer, stiffened there ; the 
neck refused to turn or bend, and the body became almost as 
immovable as if it had been carved out of the rock. Years 
passed between the first appearance of the disease and this 
awful completion of its work ; years elapsed after the hapless 
patient was thus hardened into stone, and still he lived. Nor 
was this all ; his eyes were attacked ; the sight of one was 
wholly lost, and the other became so exquisitely sensitive, that 
it could seldom be exposed to the light, and never but for a few 
moments at a time. And thus he remained for years, blind, 
immovable, prisoned in this house of stone, and echoing, we 
might suppose, the affecting exclamation of the Apostle, " Who 
shall deliver me from the body of this death ? " But no word 
of impatience escaped him ; the mind was clear and vigorous, 
the temper was not soured, the affections were as strong and 
clinging as ever. His good sense, his wit, his knowledge of 
books, his interest in the passing topics of the day, made his 
chamber a favorite resort even of those who might not have 
been drawn thither merely by sympathy for his sufferings ; for 
not infrequently, he was still exposed to agonizing pain. But 
in the intervals of this distress, his active mind sought and found 
employment, and numerous contributions, which this living statue 
dictated for a periodical work, are now in print. The secret of 
his wonderful composure and gentleness may be told in two 
words, — religious resignation.* 

* It cannot be indelicate now to state, that the individual here referred 
to was the late James Kennard, Jr., of Portsmouth, New Hampshire. A 
volume of selections from his writings, with a sketch of his life and char- 
acter, prepared by his friend the Rev. Andrew P. Peabody, has been 
"printed for private circulation." Mr. Kennard died July 28, 1847, when 
he had nearly completed his thirty-second year. For nine years before his 
death he was unable to walk ; but " he was occasionally brought down 
stairs till the summer of 1841, when he found that he could no longer bear 
removal, except that, with the most careful preparation, and with the" 
utmost delicacy of touch, he was taken daily from his bed, and placed for 
an hour or two in his easy chair." In November, 1844, his eyes were 
attacked, and " the residue of his life was spent with a deep shade over his 
face, and in a darkened room." During the paroxysms of pain which ac- 



68 THE IDEA OF SELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE. 

What says the materialist to a case like this ? Was that 
powerless body, maimed, stiffened, blind, hardly animate, — was 
that the person, the man, still active, inquisitive, industrious, 
generous, and affectionate ? or was it only a prison-house, in 
which the fettered soul was compelled to await its time of 
release ? I envy not the feelings or the intellect of him who 
could stand by the bedside of that patient sufferer, and still efts- 
believe that " there is a spirit in man, and the inspiration of the 
Almighty giveth them understanding." 

Philosophy of the ancients on this subject. — We may gather 
instruction on this point even from the wise men of ancient 
times, upon whose eyes the light of direct revelation never 
dawned. The philosophical Athenian, in describing the death- 
bed of the elder Cyrus, makes the dying monarch thus address 
the children who were gathered round him : — " For I was 
never able, my children, to persuade myself that the soul, as 
long as it was in a mortal body, lived, but when it was removed 
from this, that it died ; neither could I believe that the soul 
ceased to think when separated from the unthinking and sense- 
less body ; but it seemed to me most probable, that when pure 
and free from any union with the body, then it became most 
wise." Or take the equivalent remark, — equivalent in respect 
to the essential difference between mind and matter, — in 
which Plato anticipates the common argument for the immate- 
riality of the thinking principle, which is founded on the con- 
stant flux and change of the material particles that make up our 
bodily organs : — " One would rather say, that each soul wears 
out many bodies, especially if it should live for many years ; for 



companied this inflammation of the eyes, and which were generally about 
a week in duration, " he was able to speak only in the faintest whisper, 
and could hardly bear the sound of another voice." But his sisters and 
numerous friends were eager to serve as his readers and amanuenses, and 
his literary pursuits were soon resumed with as much mental activity and 
cheerfulness as ever. His contributions, both in verse and prose, to the 
Knickerbocker, a magazine published at New York, may be traced by his 
signature of "J. K. Jr."; they were frequent, up to the very month in 
which he died. 



THE IDEA OF SELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE. 69 

if the body wastes away and. is destroyed, the man yet living, 
while the soul always weaves anew that which is worn out, 
then it certainly follows, that the soul must have its last cover- 
ing when it perishes, and that it dies only just before that final 
vesture." 

I do not accumulate these arguments and illustrations to estab- 
lish the doctrine of the immortality of the soul, the proof of 
which, from the light of nature, has been already admitted to 
be insufficient. The essential unity of the person is contrasted 
with the essential complexity of matter only to show, that the 
body is but the house we live in, or the garment which covers 
us for a season. But an indivisible atom is not necessarily 
indestructible, any more than it is ingenerable. If it cannot 
•ease to exist, it must *be that it exists necessarily, and, there- 
fore, it never began to exist. Hence, the argument proves the 
preexistence, quite as strongly as it does the immortality, of the 
soul ;. and it was so understood by Plato and his followers, who 
argue from the antecedent life of man to the subsequent, or that 
which follows the night of the grave. 

The affections recognize the unity and continuity of self — 
The continuity and identity of our personal existence amidst 
the ceaseless changes and renovations, the growth, progress, and 
decay, of the material structure which we inhabit, form the basis 
of the relations in which we stand to all other beings. The 
affections and the duties of life are equally founded upon this 
unity of personality ; this alone makes us responsible both to 
human and Divine law. " Person" says Locke, " is a forensic 
term, appropriating actions and their merit, and so belongs only 
to intelligent agents, capable of a law, and of happiness and 
misery. This personality extends itself beyond present exist- 
ence to what is past by consciousness, whereby it becomes con- 
cerned and accountable, and owns and imputes to itself past 
actions upon the same ground, and for the same reason, that it 
does the present. And, therefore, whatever past actions it can- 
not reconcile or appropriate to itself, it can no more be con- 
cerned in than if they had never been done." 

Our social feelings, also, regard this sameness of person, or 



70 THE IDEA OP SELF, OR PERSONAL EXISTENCE. 

self, behind the numerous and important changes which our out- 
ward frames exhibit. The body wastes, the skin shrivels, the 
joints and muscles languidly perform their office, and the hair 
becomes thin and gray. Not a line is preserved, in that bent 
and decrepit form, of the fresh and elastic vigor of youth, of the 
quick eye, ready hand, and ruddy lineaments of childhood and 
niaturer years. The features and general aspect of the subject 
have wholly changed, and the artist must begin the portrait 
anew. Time has left no indistinct traces of his work, also, on 
the character and intellect. Enthusiasm is checked, impulse 
has given way to reflection, appetite is cooled, and the enjoy- 
ments of boisterous youth and strenuous manhood pall upon the 
dulled and satiated sense. But the eye of affection still discerns 
the same person beneath the altered" aspect, and the father, 
brother, son, or friend is loved and cherished still. Instinc- 
tively, in the growth of that affection, has the real being, the man, 
been separated from his accidents, from his whole environment 
of outward circumstances, including those of form and feature, 
no less than of social position and the world's contumely or re- 
spect. If the feeling be true, the object of it is one and indi- 
visible, and knows no change. Thus, in our friends as well as 
in ourselves, in our observation and judgment of others, as much 
as in the depths of our own consciousness, do we involuntarily 
separate the transient from the permanent, acknowledge inherent 
and essential oneness in the midst of complexity and transmu- 
tation, and under the fading vesture of time, a garment laid in 
shifting colors, discern the inflexible features of eternity. 



THE IDEA OF CAUSE. 71 



CHAPTER IV 



+ 



THE IDEA OF CAUSE, AND THE NATURE OF CAUSATION. 

Summary of the last chapter. — I have spoken of the origin 
and nature of our idea of personality, or rather of our knowledge 
of self, and vindicated that knowledge from the metaphysical ob- 
jections and cavils that have been brought against it by abstract 
reasoning. The object was, to establish a distinction, not merely 
between material and intellectual phenomena, which no one can 
affect to question, but between the substance of mind or person 
and material substance, and thus to show that the difference be- 
tween them is essential, instead of phenomenal ; — or, in other 
words, that this difference does not depend merely on the dis- 
similarity of their outward manifestations. I wished to prove, 
that we have no idea whatever of material substance, except by 
abstraction, and no proof of its existence, except by inference 
from its qualities or attributes, of which alone we have any im- 
mediate knowledge. But personality manifests itself externally, 
not by qualities, but by actions ; and these occur, not simultane- 
ously, but in succession ; while self, and the perception of self, 
or consciousness, being continuous, we know it in the intervals 
of thought or action, and consequently our knowledge of it is 
direct, and not merely an inference. We know, also, that person 
is absolutely simple and indivisible, and is thus distinguishable 
from its present house of flesh, or bodily covering, which, like 
all other matter, is essentially complex and infinitely divisible, 
and which, in fact, is going through a constant process of waste 
and restoration, the man alone remaining unchanged. This 
conclusion, far from being metaphysical in character, is a fact 
of universal and continuous observation, and as such is inwoven 
with our principles of conduct ; it supports the idea of responsi- 
bility, and forms the basis of the social affections. 

The idea and the law of causation. — The fact which we have 



72 THE IDEA OF CAUSE. 

thus attempted to establish is one of the first class, as it relates 
to things which exist ; a consideration of the second class, or of 
events which take place, brings us to the idea of cause, or the 
beginning of existence. The inquiry into the origin and nature 
of this idea is a fundamental one, as in the former case ; for on 
its issue depends every reasonable anticipation of future events, 
and all real knowledge of those which have passed. The exact 
sciences relate exclusively to present existences ; the mathema- 
tician studies the laws of number and of space, both of which 
are applicable to simultaneous phenomena. Events are suc- 
cessive phenomena ; and the study of them carries us both into 
the past and the future, and depends in almost every case upon 
our notion of cause. 

The law of causation may be stated thus : — Every event which 
takes place has a cause. This law is not applicable to things 
ivhich exist, and much confusion and unsound reasoning have 
arisen from the attempt to extend it to them. I cannot infer 
merely from the present existence of a stone, a plant, or an ani- 
mal, that it must have had a cause ; for all I know, it may have 
existed for ever. But if already aware of the fact, that at some 
definite epoch it began to exist, that time was when it was not, 
then I say, with absolute certainty, that that beginning of its 
existence must have been caused by something foreign to itself; 
or, more loosely speaking, that the thing itself must have had a 
cause. If all things in the universe were motionless and un- 
changeable, if no event whatever broke the dread uniformity and 
monotony of time, though all objects should remain precisely as 
they are at this moment, there would be no foundation for rea- 
soning from effect to cause. The presence of a world would not 
enable us to prove the existence of its Creator. But the instant 
a change occurs, as soon as a sound is heard, or a leaf falls, or 
only quivers on its bough, we declare without hesitation, that 
some power or agency is at work ; that the event must have had 
a cause. It may be a recondite one ; the ingenuity of man may 
have been engaged ever since the foundation of the world in a 
vain attempt Jto discover it ; still we say with perfect confidence, 
that i£ must have existed ; there must have been a cause some- 
where. 



THE IDEA OF CAUSE. 73 

Efficient causation distinguished from mere succession. — I 
speak now of causation in its absolute and literal sense, — not 
merely of an antecedent event, but of an efficient antecedent, — 
of a cause in respect to which, if it were completely known, we 
could tell beforehand, or prior to all experience, what would be 
its effect. Those who are familiar with the speculations of 
philosophers upon this subject will tell me,*that I am here 
adopting the metaphysical notion of cause ; I admit it, but I say- 
that it is also the popular notion, the ordinary significance of a 
very common word, — that people generally never think of at- 
taching any other idea to it, and never find any difficulty in 
distinguishing the succession of cause and effect, properly so 
called, from an ordinary sequence, or from the accidental simul- 
taneousness of two otherwise unconnected events. The falling 
of the spark, they say, is the cause of the explosion, meaning 
thereby the efficient cause; and they distinguish this case very 
clearly from that of two clocks striking the hour in immediate 
succession, never supposing, in this latter instance, that the one 
operates on the other, and obliges it to strike, though they may 
have kept exact time with each other for many years. "Causa 
autem ea est, quce id efficit, cujus est causa. Non sic causa in- 
telligi debet, ut, quod cuique antecedat, id ei causa sit, sed quod 
cuique efficienter antecedat? This fact, that the popular accep- 
tation of the word cause is also its strict and scientific meaning, 
it is important to remember, as will be seen hereafter. 

True causes cannot he discovered in the world of matter. — 
Now, in ordinary physical inquiry, in the world of matter, are 
we able to perceive and recognize such causes ? Admitting, as 
every rational being must do, that every event, change, or be- 
ginning of existence must have an efficient cause, can we dis- 
cover this cause, and show beforehand that it must produce this 
particular event, and no other, and why it produces it ? The 
answer may appear startling to some, but there is no doubt of 
its correctness. If there is any one conclusion at which both 
physical and metaphysical inquirers, after a long dispute, have 
at last arrived with almost complete accord, it is this : — that we 
are not able to discern the real cause of any event or change in 
7 



74 THE IDEA OF CAUSE. 

the outward universe, and that the search after .such causes is 
hopeless ; — in the outward universe, or world of matter, I say, 
beeause the case of mind must be considered afterwards. We 
do not know, that the falling of the spark was the cause of the 
explosion of the powder ; most probably, it was not. We do 
not know, that the man's taking poison was the cause of his 
death ; most likely, it was not. This statement is not meant to 
be paradoxical, but simply explicit and clear ; I hope to prove 
satisfactorily that it is well founded. 

Observe, then, that all which we discern, in any case, is the 
events themselves, and not the connection between those events. 
I see the falling of the spark ; I see and hear the explosion 
which immediately follows. I have sensible evidence only of 
this, — that two events happened simultaneously and in rapid 
succession. Recollecting otber instances, or learning them from 
the testimony of others, I may have reason to believe, that 
these two events have always taken place together, or that the 
one has never occurred without being immediately followed by 
the other. Believing, also, that the course of nature is uniform, 
it seems very probable, that this succession will always take 
place in future. I perceive nothing but the events ; I know 
that they are simultaneous, or nearly so ; and this is all that I 
know. I do not see any necessary connection between them ; 
and if I hastily infer, that there must be such a connection, 
because the two always happen in close succession, the case of 
the two clocks reminds me that invariable antecedence and con- 
sequence do not prove any connection whatever. Cause implies 
power or force, which is never directly perceived ; but we infer 
that it exists, because the event happens, or the effect is pro- 
duced. 

It is often loosely said, that one event is the cause of another, 
when the two are, in fact, separated by quite a long succession 
of intermediate causes. Thus, it is said, that the stroke of the 
hammer on the bell is the cause of the sound which we hear; 
strictly speaking, however, this stroke only precedes an agita- 
tion of the particles of which the bell is composed ; this agita- 
tion is said to cause a vibration in the elastic medium, the 



THE IDEA OF CAUSE. 75 

air, which extends to our ears; this vibration seems to pro- 
duce a change, in the auditory nerve ; which is followed, prob- 
ably, by some affection of a part, or of the whole mass, of the 
brain ; and then comes, at last, our sensation of sound. In this 
final sequence, which involves the connection between mind and 
matter, we are ready to admit, that we know only the fact, that 
the affection of the brain is followed by a sensation, and do not 
know the cause of this fact, or the reason why it is thus fol- 
lowed. We are led to make this admission, because our power 
of detecting intermediate sequences stops here ; we cannot 
point out any links of connection between the effect on the brain 
and the sensation, as we did between the stroke of the hammer 
and the agitation of the nerve. The former sequence, then, is 
admitted to be an ultimate fact, or, what is the same thing, we 
say that the cause of it is inexplicable. Yet it is certain that 
we ought to make the same admission as to all the other se- 
quences, each one of which, taken by itself, is an ultimate fact, 
and equally inexplicable. Why should a blow from a hammer 
be diffused over a considerable surface, so as to throw all the 
particles of a large bell, made of solid metal, into agitation ? We 
do not know. But this is one instance out of a large class of 
similar ones ; we are accustomed to perceive concussion followed 
by agitation of the parts of the two bodies whicn strike together, 
and this familiarity of the fact makes it seem less inexplicable ; 
it is not wonderful or strange, because we know a vast number 
of similar cases, and, therefore, we suppose it is not difficult to 
be understood. In truth, we know nothing about it, except that 
one event is invariably followed by the other ; and this knowl- 
edge of constant succession, as we have seen, is very differ- 
ent indeed from a perception of the efficient cause. 

How the physical inquirer is said to discover causes. — What 
is meant, then, when we speak of the success of the physical 
inquirer, — the chemist, the meteorologist, or the mechanist, for 
instance, — in pointing out the causes of material phenomena ? 
We mean, that he has succeeded in detecting some of these 
intermediate sequences, and in showing, that they are of the 
same character with a class of other well-known facts, all of 



76 THE IDEA OF CAUSE. 

which are supposed to have a common cause, though we have 
never thought of asking what that cause is. A phenomenon, 
which formerly appeared to be anomalous, or the only specimen 
of its class, is in this manner reduced to the same rank or class 
with a great number of familiar events. The discovery, then, 
consists in finding out tlte proper classification of the fact, not in 
ascertaining its cause. And, further, when we have a great 
number of phenomena, so similar in character that it is reason- 
able to believe they are all produced by one cause, though we 
know not what that cause is, yet we give a name to it. And 
afterwards, should any fact, apparently anomalous, or of a dif- 
ferent order, be reduced to this class, then the name becomes 
applicable to this fact also, and we say, in ordinary parlance, 
that the cause of it is discovered. Let me illustrate this a little 
further. 

Gravity is a law, but not an efficient cause. — When Newton 
discovered that the planets circle round the sun in the same 
manner in which a stone thrown by the hand describes a curve 
before reaching the earth, he may be said to have explained the 
former phenomenon, by bringing it into the same class with cer- 
tain results which have long been familiar to us. But the 
explanation was only relative, not absolute. The latter phe- 
nomenon is, in reality, no more explicable than the former ; he 
did not pretend to know the cause of the stone's falling to the 
ground, any more than of the revolution of the planets. It was 
something to be able to arrange these apparently heterogeneous 
results in the same class, and gravity was a convenient name to 
apply to the whole. But the supposition that gravity was an 
occult cause, inherent in matter, Newton earnestly repelled, 
declaring that it was inconceivable, and that the motions " must 
be caused by an agent, acting constantly according to certain 
laws." — So Franklin showed, that a thundercloud and the 
charged conductor of an electrical machine manifested the same 
phenomena, and might, therefore, be classed together ; sparks 
were obtained from both ; Leyden jars were charged from them ; 
light bodies were attracted and repelled, in the same way, by 
both; — so that it was reasonable to believe, that the same 



THE IDEA OF CAUSE. 77 

agency, whatever it might be, was acting in both cases. What 
this agency was, he did not even guess. The cause of electric 
action, whether in the excited cloud or in the excited tube, was 
just as obscure as ever. — Once more ; chemists observed, that 
different substances, when brought into close contact, sometimes 
remained distinct, and sometimes united with each other, in 
various, but regular, proportions ; and these capacities, of coal- 
escing with one class of bodies, and of remaining unaffected by 
another, are called chemical " affinities." This is a convenient 
generalization, and has properly received a specific name ; 
though the common appellation throws no light on the cause of 
the phenomenon, which remains an impenetrable secret. To 
say, that a certain action is caused by the operation of chemical 
affinities, is only to arrange it with a large class of other ob- 
served appearances, equally obscure as to their origin and essen- 
tial character, but agreeing so far as to render it probable that 
one cause, could it ever be discovered, would be found common 
to them all. 

Further discoveries would not reveal true causes. — Now let us 
go a step further, and suppose, that the progress of discovery 
has made known certain facts lying behind the phenomena in 
question, to which they may all be referred. Let us suppose, 
that all bodies which gravitate towards each other, are found to 
be embosomed in a subtile, ambient fluid, which connects them, 
as it were, into one system ; that the positive and negative 
states of electricity are resolvable into the presence of two 
fluids, standing in certain relations to each other ; and that sub- 
stances show chemical affinity for each other only when they 
are in opposite electrical conditions* Still, we have only 
advanced a step in the generalization, and the real, efficient 
cause of the appearances is still hidden from us by an impene- 
trable veil. Gravitation is now referred to the communication 
of motion by impulse ; electricity, to the combination and sep- 
aration of different fluids ; affinity, to the attraction or repulsion 
of these fluids. The latter classes of phenomena are more gen- 
eral, but not a whit more explicable, than the former. We have 
now fewer causes to seek for, but not one of these few has been 

7* 



78 THE IDEA OF CAUSE. 

discovered. When we have resolved electricity, or gravitation, 
into the presence of an elastic medium, it is a mere figure of 
speech, to say that we have discovered the cause of the electric 
phenomena, or of gravity. That is just as far off as ever. 

Relative distinguished from absolute knowledge. — One is often 
amused with the tendency of the special students of a particular 
science, to exaggerate the importance and precision of the les- 
sons which it teaches, or of improvements which have recently 
been made in its theory. The geologist, for instance, informs us 
that the date of certain great changes which have taken place 
in the earth's crust, is fully and clearly ascertained ; though he 
knows only, that the acts of disruption and upheaving were sub- 
sequent to the deposition of the rocks in strata, or that the Silu- 
rian formation is older than the chalk. But if asked how old 
the chalk is, he can only say, that it is younger than the Silu- 
rian ; and to the question, when the rocks were deposited, his 
answer is, Before they were upheaved. We know not the 
dates of either of these events, or how long the intervals were 
that separated them, even by approximation, or within millions 
of years. Obviously, then, our knowledge of them is not abso- 
lute, but relative. 

The case is precisely similar with the discoveries of science 
respecting the causes of material phenomena. The astronomer 
tells us, that the cause of the planets revolving in elliptical or- 
bits is probably the same as that which brings a stone to the 
ground : but if asked why the stone falls, his answer must be, 
Probably from the same force which carries our earth round 
the sun. Observe, now, the errors that arise from the use of 
language, and the facility with which words are often imposed 
upon us in the place of knowledge. To this unknown cause, 
which is only conjectured to be the same in the two cases, the 
name of gravity is applied ; and then, to either Oi the questions 
that I have propounded, the man of science wisely answers, that 
gravity is the cause of the phenomenon ; and by most persons 
this answer is held to be sufficient, as it seems to offer a known 
and adequate cause. But it is not so ; gravity is only the mode 
in which the machine works, — not the cause of that motion; If 



THE IDEA OF CAUSE. 79 

asked by a child, why the hands of a clock move so steadily and 
uniformly round its face, it would not be very satisfactory to 
reply, that regularity is the cause of the motion ; to give the lit- 
tle inquirer any real light upon the subject, we must open the 
case, show the internal machinery, and trace back the compli- 
cated action to the descent of a weight. Just so we can observe 
the regularity with which the hands move over the great dial- 
plate of nature, which marks out time for us in the heavens ; 
and we may call that regularity gravitation, if we please ; but 
human beings are like children, who are not permitted to open 
the clock-case.* 

* "What are general Jaws, or laivs of nature, as they are generally termed 1 
Few phrases are more frequently and glibly used than these, yet in the 
minds of most persons, they have but a vague and uncertain signification. 
It is worth while, then, to attempt to gain some clear and precise notions 
respecting them. 

A law of nature is nothing more than a general fact, or rather a general 
statement, comprehending under it many similar individual facts. A law is the 
result of a classification, and individual things are classed together on ac- 
count of some similarity or uniformity that has been discovered between 
them. 

1. Objects that exist are classed together on account of their resemblance 
to each other. Such classification may consist of several successive steps, 
and is the proper work of Natural History. Thus, all objects whatsoever 
are divided into three great kingdoms, the Animal, the Vegetable, and the 
Mineral. The Animal kingdom is subdivided into four classes, Verte- 
brates, Molluscs, Articulates, and Radiates or Zoophites. The General Fact, 
that all the animals so classed possess the organ or property, which is the 
characteristic of the class, is called a Law of Nature. It is a Law of Na- 
ture, for instance, that all Vertebrates have a spinal cord and a skull in- 
closing the brain. Another Law of Nature is, that every animal is pro- 
duced from an egg. 

2. Events that take place, also, are classed together on account of their 
uniformity. Thus, it is a Genex-al Fact, or Law of Nature, that pressure 
on a fluid is propagated equally in all directions, and that a heavy body, 
if unsupported, falls to the earth. Many of these General Facts are so 
familiar, that we never think of formally enunciating them ; " no science," 
says J. S.Mill, " was needed to teach men that food nourishes, that water 
drowns, or quenches thirst, that the sun gives light and heat, that bodies 
fall to the ground." These laws, also, are not necessary truths, but are 
founded on mere induction, — often on a not very extensive one. A 
newly discovered metal, being found, by a single experiment, to be fusible 



80 THE IDEA OF CAUSE. 

Uniformity of the effects does not always indicate a common 
cause. — I have said, that the unknown cause is only conjectured 
to be the same in the two cases; this is an important further 
limitation of our knowledge of the subject, and naturally leads 
us to ask, how trustworthy are the grounds of this conjecture. 
If an observer from another planet, utterly ignorant of the ac- 
tions, and the reasons of action, of men like ourselves, were to 
survey, from a distance, the evolutions of large bodies of troops 
on a parade-ground or a battle-field, he could not fail to be 
struck by the precision and uniformity of their movements, the 
preservation of the ranks and files in right lines, and the simul- 
taneous changes in the position and direction of their arms. If 
he were to inquire, upon the principles of human science, into 
the cause of these regular and parallel motions, he would prob- 

at a certain temperature, it is at once declared to be a Law of Nature, that 
it does melt, always has melted, and always will melt, at the ascertained 
degree of heat. It is certainly possible, though not probable, that another 
piece of the metal may be discovered which will not melt at this tempera- 
ture. A particular event, comprehended under the statement of a Law, 
is not properly said to be be caused by the Law, but only to be a case, or in- 
stance, happening under the Laiv. A cow does not suckle its calf because it 
is called a Mammifer, but it is called a Mammifer because it suckles its 
calf. So, it is not a law of Hydrostatics, which causes water to remain at 
the same level in the two arms of a bent tube ; but the fact, that the water 
stands at this level, is ranked among many other facts, which are compre- 
hended under the general statement, called a Law, of Hydrostatics. Grav- 
itation does not make the stone fall, but the particular fact, that this stone 
fell, is comprehended under the General Fact, or Law, of Gravitation. In 
like manner, Gravitation does not make the earth revolve in an elliptical 
orbit round the sun ; but the fact that the earth revolves in this manner, 
is ranked with the falling of a stone, and with many other facts of a simi- 
lar character, under the general statement, or Law, of Gravitation. 

Hence it is abundantly evident, to adopt Mr. Mill's language, that " the 
expression, Laws of Nature, means nothing but the uniformities which ex- 
ist among natural phenomena, when reduced to their simplest expression." 
The Laws of Nature do not account for, or explain, the phenomena of nature ; 
they only describe them. Description and classification are the sole em- 
ployments of Physical science. 

To account for, or explain, the operations of nature, we must have re- 
course to Metaphysics — to something after, or above, nature. "We must 
ascend to the notion of Cause. 



THE IDEA OF CAUSE. 81 

ably attribute it to the action of some one force, inexplicable to 
him, situated at the centre of the field, and operating uni- 
formly on every rank, and on every individual in the ranks ; 
and he would proceed to lay down the laws of its operation, — 
that is, to note the order of the marches and countermarches, 
and to make out the whole theory of these complicated evolu- 
tions. So long as discipline continued, his theory, doubtless, 
would be a very satisfactory one. But if he waited till the 
order of review or battle was broken up for the night, he would 
see, to his astonishment, the soldiers scattering in all directions, 
and a universal hubbub following that scene of order and 
method. He would perceive that there was nothing mechan- 
ical in the whole matter, but that each soldier had a distinct 
principle of action, a separate will and a separate power of mo- 
tion; and although, for some unknown reason, all had deter- 
mined to act in concert for a time, preserving their ranks and 
mechanically imitating each other, still, for each movement of 
each individual, there was an independent volition and a dis- 
tinct personal cause. It is not necessary for me to apply the 
illustration ; substitute weighty bodies, or masses of matter, for 
soldiers and companies of soldiers, and you have in this theory 
the exact counterpart of the scientific man's theory of the uni- 
verse, as it is commonly understood. I do not yet say that the 
theory is false, especially if it be rightly interpreted ; I am only 
showing what is the nature of the evidence which entitles us to 
attribute all similar phenomena to the operation of a single 
cause, when we know not, and never can know, the nature of 
that cause. 

But I have gone far enough, perhaps, to vindicate the asser- 
tion with which I began, — that we are not able to discern the 
real or efficient cause of any event or change in the outward 
universe. This inability is now admitted, so far as I know, by 
every scientific writer of any reputation, either in physics or 
metaphysics, excepting Dr. Whewell, whose anticipations of the 
triumphs of science are rather more glowing than profound. I 
borrow a clear statement of the truth on this subject from Mr. 
Mill, as a single authority will be enough. 



82 THE IDEA OF CAUSE. 

a What is called explaining one law of nature by another," he 
observes, " is but substituting one mystery for another, and does 
nothing to render the general course of nature other than mys- 
terious ; we can no more assign a why for the more extensive 
laws than for the partial ones. The explanation may substitute 
a mystery which has become familiar, and has grown to seem not 
mysterious, for one which is still strange. And this is the 
meaning of explanation in common parlance. But the process 
with which we are here concerned often does the very contrary ; 
it resolves a phenomenon with which we are familiar, into one 
of which we previously knew little or nothing ; as when the 
common fact of the fall of heavy bodies is resolved into a ten- 
dency of all particles of matter towards one another. It must 
be kept constantly in view, therefore, that when philosophers 
speak of explaining any of the phenomena of nature, they al- 
ways mean, pointing out some, not more familiar, but merely 
some more general, phenomenon, of which it is a partial exem- 
plification, or some laws of causation which produce it by their 
joint or successive action, and from which, therefore, its con- 
ditions may be determined deductively." 

How physical science is useful. — Lest some should think that 
this doctrine tends to discredit physical science, by pointing out 
the narrowness of its scope, and the hopelessness of all attempts 
to go beyond it, let me observe, that the field of research is not 
at all diminished, but the objects in it are called by their right 
names, and made to appear in their true character. These 
sequences of phenomena, or invariable conjunctions of events, 
which were improperly supposed to be related to each other as 
cause and effect, are still, when stripped of this supposititious 
relation, important objects of study, and the discovery of new ones 
will affect the calculations and conduct of men just as much as 
ever. To return to the examples first given, we do not know 
that the spark was the cause of the explosion, or that taking 
poison produced death ; but we do know, that the two events 
are always united, that one is the invariable consequent of the 
other, and this is enough to direct us in action. Experience 
loses none of its value as a trustworthy guide of life, though it 



THE IDEA OF CAUSE. ■ 83 

is deprived of some of its factitious importance as a source of 
knowledge. The discovery of invariable sequences, of regularity 
in the succession of events, is the true aim of physical science. 
To distinguish accidental, and therefore infrequent, conjunctions 
from such as are constant, to separate the casual proximity in 
time of two events, from their permanent relation to each other 
as antecedent and consequent, is the only object of the inquirer. 
An eclipse of the sun may be followed by a pestilence ; a 
troubled dream may very soon be succeeded by some great 
domestic misfortune. But a brief experience of eclipses and of 
dreams will satisfy us, that there is no permanent relation be- 
tween these two events, nothing but & fortuitous conjunction of 
them. On the other hand, the application of heat is always fol- 
lowed by the boiling of the water, and the sensation of coldness 
never fails to result, if the warm hand be placed upon ice. 
Permanent sequences are thus distinguished from casual ones ; 
but of the true relations of the two events to each other, of the 
reason or cause of their proximity, we are just as ignorant in 
the latter case as in the former. Previously to all experience, 
we have no more reason for supposing that powdered sugar 
will dissolve in water, and powdered marble will not, than for 
believing that an eclipse of the sun will be followed by an earth- 
quake. " Causis autem efficientibus quamque rem cognitis, posse 
denique sciri^ quid futurum essetJ" 

To distinguish invariable sequences from necessary connec- 
tions, Dugald Stewart and others have proposed to call the 
former 'physical causes,' and the latter ' efficient causes.' This 
nomenclature is good enough in one respect, as the former are 
the only objects of physical inquiry ; but it is faulty, in so far 
as it connects the idea of cause in any manner whatever with 
such relations. ' Physical causes,' as they are termed, are only 
the constant forerunners and signs of certain natural events ; 
the word cause is almost universally understood to mean nothing 
but efficient cause. 

How invariable sequences are distinguished from accidental 
ones. — To show both the importance and the difficulty of dis- 
tinguishing invariable sequences from accidental and unessential 



84 THE IDEA. OF CAUSE. 

conjunctions, I borrow an illustration from Mr. Stewart. " Let 
us suppose that a savage, who, in a particular instance, had 
found himself relieved of some bodily indisposition by a draught 
of cold water, is a second time afflicted with a similar disorder, 
and is desirous to repeat the same remedy. With the limited 
degree of experience which we have supposed him to possess, it 
would be impossible for the acutest philosopher in his situation 
to determine, whether the cure was owing to the water which 
was drunk, to the cup in which it was contained, to the fountain 
from which it was taken, to the particular day of the month, or 
to the particular age of the moon. In order, therefore, to in- 
sure the success of the remedy, he will very naturally, and very 
wisely, copy, as far as he can recollect, every circumstance 
which accompanied the first application of it. He will make 
use of the same cup, draw the water from the same fountain, 
hold his body in the same posture, and turn his face in the same 
direction ; and thus all the accidental circumstances in which 
the first experiment was made, will come to be associated 
equally in his mind with the effect produced." 

The man of science, Mr. Stewart might have added, will re- 
peat the experiment a number of times, leaving out at each trial 
one of the attendant circumstances, till he falls upon one, after 
the omission of which the desired result no longer follows. He 
is then popularly said to have found out the cause of the cure ; 
but his reason for believing in the efficacy of this one antecedent, 
in its necessary connection with the result, is precisely the same 
that the savage had for believing in the necessity of all the at- 
tendant circumstances ; — namely, that the application was made, 
and the cure followed. And were he to repeat the experiment 
a thousand times, he could learn no more than this, — the inva- 
riable attendance of one event upon the other. Why the cure 
takes place, he knows not. Lest I should be accused of taking 
an extreme case from so imperfect a science as medicine, let me 
say, that the power of water to slake one's thirst is ascertained 
in precisely the same manner. After the draught, we feel no 
longer thirsty ; and this succession of the one event to the other 
is all that we know about it. 



THE IDEA OF CAUSE. 85 

The theory which denies that we have any idea of an efficient 
cause. — I pass now to a consideration of an error in the theory 
of causation of precisely the opposite character to that which 
has thus far occupied our attention. So evident does it appear 
to some philosophers, that we never discern any efficient causes 
in nature, that they deny our having any knowledge of them, or 
any conception of their existence. The word cause, they say, 
whether it be called efficient or not, means nothing but invariable 
antecedence. The idea of efficiency, of power, of energy, is a 
mere figment of the brain ; it denotes nothing but constancy of 
succession. Dr. Brown's words are, — " We give the name 
[cause'] to that which has always been followed by a certain 
event, is followed by a certain event, and, according to our be- 
lief, will continue to be followed by that event, as its immediate 
consequent; and causation, power, or any other synonymous 
words which we may use, express nothing more than this per- 
manent relation of that which has preceded to that which has 
followed." So well satisfied was he of the truth of this doctrine, 
that he said his elaborate argument in favor of it appeared to 
him very much like an attempt to prove the correctness of the 
multiplication-table. Hume and Brown are followed in this re- 
spect by Mr. Mill, who denies that we have any notion whatever 
of power, or force, apart from the substances or events in which 
they are supposed to inhere ; he says, " there is nothing in 
causation but invariable, certain, and unconditional sequence ; " 
and that " reason repudiates," though the imagination may re- 
tain, the idea " of some more intimate connection, of some pe- 
culiar tie, or mysterious constraint exercised by the antecedent 
over the consequent." He even denies the universality and 
necessity of the law of causation, — or, as he understands it, 
the law of invariable antecedence, — saying, that although, in 
this world of ours, every event is preceded by some other event, 
the two forming a constant sequence, yet, for aught we know, 
" in some one, for instance, of the many firmaments into which 
sidereal astronomy now divides the universe, events may suc- 
ceed one another at random, without any fixed law." 

Confutation of this theory. — Against skepticism so extrava- 
8 



Jl 



86 THE IDEA OF CAUSE. 

gant as this, it is only necessary to adduce the fact of which I 
reminded you at the beginning of this chapter, — that the 
popular significance of the word cause is the scientific and 
metaphysical meaning of it, the idea being that of efficient cause, 
and not merely of a constant forerunner or sign of any event. 
I appeal to the consciousness of every one who hears me, if, by 
the relation of cause and effect, he does not understand a fixed 
and essential relation, — one perfectly distinct from that of mere 
succession, — the former event being necessarily followed by the 
latter, and the existence of the latter being inconceivable except 
as both preceded and produced by its antecedent. When you 
say, that the falling of a spark caused the explosion, you mean 
something very different from the mere proximity of two suc- 
cessive strokes upon a bell. The idea of power, or force, is per- 
fectly clear and distinct in your mind ; I ask not now how it 
came there, — whether it be legitimately acquired, or a mere 
figment of the imagination ; but it is there, — as distinguish- 
able from ail your other notions as the idea of unity, or of self. 
" What convinces me," says Dr. Reid, " that I have an idea of 
power is, that I am conscious that I know what I mean by that 
word, and, while I have this consciousness, I disdain equally to 
hear arguments for or against my having such an idea." As 
the idea is not complex, it cannot be analyzed, and is therefore 
indefinable ; but in this respect, it is only on the same footing 
with all other simple conceptions. 

Paradoxical residt of the inquiry. — Observe, now, to what 
point the discussion has brought us ; — to the acknowledgment 
that the idea of power, or efficient cause, is one of the simplest 
and most familiar conceptions of the human mind ; yet that we 
can find no reality corresponding to it in the outward universe. 
Every change, every phenomenon, which begins to exist, must 
have an efficient cause ; we can no more question this proposi- 
tion than we can deny the axioms of the geometer. But the 
closest observation, the most refined analysis, nowhere discovers 
such a cause in the external world ; it detects nothing, it never 
can detect any thing, but invariable antecedence, — a relation 
which differs from that of cause as widely as the idea of person, 



THE IDEA OF CAUSE. 87 

?r self, differs from that of material substance. Whence came 
the idea, then ? Why do we suppose the existence of such a 
cause, or attribute to it every outward phenomenon, when it is 
nowhere discoverable? This is the problem which we must 
now undertake t§ solve. 

Origin of the idea of cause, — Two answers are possible to 
this inquiry. One is, that the idea of cause is a conception of 
pure reason ; an original and spontaneous intuition of the soul ; 
not furnished by experience, though first developed on occasion 
of its exercise ; a part of the primitive constitution of the human 
mind ; in short, an innate idea. Those to whom this answer is 
satisfactory, of course, need go no further. The existence of 
such primitive ideas is a mere dogmatic assertion, admitted to 
be incapable of proof, and affirmed to be in no need of it, but to 
occupy a position above all argument. No inquiry into their 
origin, or genesis, is possible, for they had no origin, except 
with the birth of the mind itself; no process of legitimating 
them, or establishing their objective validity, is required, as they 
constitute the grounds of reasoning about other things, and so 
cannot themselves be reasoned about. If you deny the exist- 
ence of them, you are a skeptic, or a materialist, and there is 
an end of the matter. Now, for the purposes of this inquiry, I 
do not feel concerned either to affirm or deny them. Those 
who believe in them, as I have said, need go no further ; the 
conclusion to which they have come is perfectly satisfactory, 
though they have jumped to it ; and I freely concede this point, 
that the idea of cause has a better claim to be considered origi- 
nal and spontaneous than any other. If there are any innate 
ideas, this surely is one. Those who are not satisfied with this 
compendious and dogmatic method of solving the problem, may 
accompany me in a consideration of the second possible answer 
to the question proposed ; — namely, that the idea of cause has 
its origin in internal experience, in the consciousness of volition 
and action. 

The human will is an efficient cause. — Our theorem is, that 
we have the direct evidence of consciousness, arising from every 
volition or voluntary act, that the human will is a cause, — an 



88 THE IDEA OF CAUSE. 

efficient cause, not a mere antecedent, — a limited cause, indeed, 
but supreme within its proper domain, — not always swf-ficient 
for the end proposed, but always e/'-ficient, or expending force 
or power, which is real, though often inadequate. Thus, if I 
will to move a limb which has been paralyzed, though the limb 
does not move, I am conscious of making an effort to move it, 
and this consciousness of effort is a consciousness of force ex- 
erted, of power in action, which is necessarily causal or causative, 
though in this instance too weak, or too little, for the end pro- 
posed. By this " effort," I do not mean the mere straining of 
the muscles, or muscular effort. I mean the strong purpose, 
the vigorous exertion of will, a purely mental effort, — which 
will be best illustrated, perhaps, by an action confined entirely 
to mind. 

Consider, then, the strong effort of the will to fix the atten- 
tion upon a particular subject of thought, when a variety of dis- 
tracting circumstances calls off the mind to other topics, — when 
grief, terror, anxiety, or anger darkens and disturbs the soul. 
The success of the attempt in such a case, the issue of the 
struggle, may be doubtful ; but we are conscious that it is a 
struggle, that power is put forth towards the end in view, and 
this power is a true cause. A man of great energy, of indom- 
itable resolution, is said truly to possess great force of character, 
however puny may be his bodily constitution, however meagre 
and insufficient may be the outward means at his disposal for 
the accomplishment of his object. In a successful contest with 
the passions, in resistance to temptation, there is a consciousness 
of power exerted, which no mere material exertion, no stiffen- 
ing of the sinews and summoning up the blood, can ever equal 
Our real activity resides solely in the will. An effort to lift the 
arm is, so to speak, an outward effort, like the attempt to rend an 
oak ; it may or may not succeed ; that depends on the material 
constitution of the nerves and muscles. But the act was really 
completed in the volition, or in putting forth conscious energy 
towards the end proposed; and this always succeeds. The 
limbs may be palsied, the muscles may refuse to bend, and this 
tenement of clay in which we live may no longer obey our 



THE IDEA OF CAUSE. . 89 

wishes, or minister to our necessities. But the kingly will still 
governs and acts within, and is still responsible for its acts at 
that dread tribunal where not the outward movements, but the 
purposes of the heart, come into judgment. 

Power may be exerted, though no outward effect follows. — ^ I 
contend that, in the action of will, we have all the marks or 
tests, by which efficient causation is distinguished from mere 
antecedence. In the case of material phenomena, as we have 
seen, the result can be ascertained only by experience ; we learn 
only by trial that one substance is soluble, and another not, — 
that iron expands, and clay contracts, in the fire. But in the 
case of mental exertion, the result to be accomplished is pre- 
considered, or meditated, and is therefore known a priori, or 
before experience ; * the volition succeeds, which is a true effort, 



* To this statement, Mr. J. S. Mill objects, " This is merely saying, 
that when we will a thing, we have an idea of it. But to have an idea of 
what we wish to happen, does not imply a prophetic knowledge that it 
will happen." 

Certainly it does not ; but a mental sequence between a volition and a 
bodily motion, is hereby distinguished from a sequence between two exter- 
nal events, because, in the latter case, the antecedent gives us no idea at 
all what the consequent will be, and no assurance that there will be any 
consequent; while, in the former case, the antecedent does inform us, 
through consciousness, and prior to experience, what the consequent will 
be, if any, and also that the volition will tend to produce this particular 
consequent, even if the effort, or the force of the volition, should not suf- 
fice to produce the whole of the intended result ; — just as I may be con- 
scious that I push against a pane of glass, though I do not push hard 
enough to break it. It is something to establish this distinction, as we 
thereby negative Mr. Mill's previous assertion, that " our will causes our 
bodily actions in the same sense, and in no other, in which cold causes ice." 

Again, — though " the idea of what we wish to happen " does not imply 
a prophetic knowledge of what will happen, yet the idea of what we will 
(that is, the consciousness of a volition,) does imply, if not a prophetic 
knowledge of what will happen, yet an immediate knowledge of something 
that does happen. It is a consciousness of an action — of something done 
— of power exerted, whether the future result of that action be precisely 
what we intended or not. An act of the will is at the same moment a vo- 
lition and an action ; it is but one state of mind considered under two dif- 
ferent relations. It is a volition, in so far as it is directed to one propose 



90 THE IDEA OF CAUSE. 

or a power in action ; and this, if the power be sufficient, is 
necessarily followed by the effect. It was from overlooking this 
distinction, that Hume, Kant, and Brown, and such metaphysi- 
cians of the present day as Bailey and Mill, have been led to 
deny all knowledge of causation even in the action of mind. 
They confounded sufficiency with efficiency, and supposed, be- 
cause the power or volition did not always accomplish the 
object, that it did not tend towards it, or exert any effect upon 
it. But I quote Mr. Mill's language against himself; for when 
he is looking only to physical causes and material results, he 
lays down this distinction with admirable clearness. 

Alluding to the direction and velocity with which a body 
moves when acted upon by a certain force, he says, " The body 
does not only move in that manner, unless counteracted ; it 
tends to move in that manner, even when counteracted ; it still 
exerts in the original direction the same energy of movement, 
as if its first impulse had been undisturbed, and produces, by 
that energy, an exactly equivalent quantity of effect. This is 
true, even when the force leaves the body, as it found it, in a 
state of absolute rest ; as when we attempt to raise a body of 
three tons' weight, with a force equal to one ton. For if, while 
we are applying this force, the wind, or water, or any other 
agent, supplies an additional force just exceeding two tons, the 
body will be raised ; thus proving, that the force we applied ex- 
erted its full effect, by neutralizing an equivalent portion of the 



or another; it is an action, in so far as it is something done, (and something, 
therefore, for which our conscience holds us responsible,) whether the ulterior 
purpose in view is answered or not. Mr. Mill's ingenious periphrasis for 
a volition — " an idea of what we wish to happen " — cannot be accepted. 
Merely " to have an idea " of a thing, is not to do that thing. I may " have 
an idea " of committing murder ; but I do not thereby commit murder. 
The mind is entirely passive, when it is occupied with mei*e contemplation, 
or is merely entertaining ideas. But on the other hand, if I will to com- 
mit mui'der, and, as a necessary means to this end, will to pull the trigger 
of a pistol, then, in foro conscientice, I am guilty of that murder, because 1 
have done something, though, from the rustiness of the lock, the trigger 
should not move, and the life of the intended victim should thereby be 
saved. 



THE IDEA OF CAUSE. 91 

weight, which it was insufficient altogether to overcome. And 
if, while we are exerting this force of one ton upon the object 
in a direction contrary to that of gravity, it be put into a scale 
and weighed, it will be found to have lost a ton of its weight, or, 
in other words, to press downwards with a force only equal to 
the difference of the two forces. 

" These facts are correctly indicated by the expression ten- 
dency. All laws of causation, in consequence of their liability 
to be counteracted, require to be stated in words affirmative of 
tendencies only, and not of actual results. In those sciences of 
causation which have an accurate nomenclature, there are spe- 
cial words, which signify a tendency to the particular effect with 
which the science is conversant ; thus, -pressure, in Mechanics, 
is synonymous with tendency to motion, and forces are not 
reasoned upon as causing actual motion, but as exerting pres- 
sure." 

How language so precise as this is to be reconciled with the 
writer's denial of the fact, that we have even any idea of efficient 
cause, is a question for Mr. Mill to answer. I have no concern 
with it, except to remark, that the energy, or power exerted, 
which is not followed by any actual effect, but only tends to 
produce one, cannot with any propriety be considered as a mere 
antecedent event, for it has no consequent. It is no fact of ob- 
servation, inasmuch as no result is perceived ; and therefore it 
does not conflict with our doctrine, that we nowhere discern 
efficient causes in the material world. But tendency cannot 
even be conceived of, much less so clearly explained as it is by 
Mr. Mill, except as the effect of power in action, and there- 
fore as implying a real cause. 

However this may be, the illustration amply vindicates our 
knowledge of efficient causation in the phenomena of mind, 
against which no objection can be brought, except the alleged 
necessity of waiting till experience informs us .whether the voli- 
tion is effective or not, so that we cannot say a priori, as we 
should do of a true cause, that it will be, it must be, effective. 
We can say this beforehand of mental activity, or will ; the 
volition is always effective, if not to the full extent of actually 



92 THE IDEA OF CAUSE. 

producing the whole result in view, at least as tending to pro- 
duce it, so that it is an efficient cause. 

How the idea of cause is expanded into the law of causation. 

— The difference between voluntary and involuntary states of 
mind, — between attention and sensation, for example, — is soon 
recognized. We know that power is exerted in the former case, 
that every act is preceded by a volition, and that this volition is 
the sole and efficient cause of the act. Nay, within the proper 
domain of the will, it is even inconceivable to us that any event 
or change should take place without the agency of the will ; and 
hence, as I am inclined to believe, by a natural association of 
ideas, we are led to the doctrine of universal causation, — to the 
belief that no event whatever, whether in the mind or in the 
outer universe, can take place without an efficient cause. In 
most cases, we are ignorant what that cause is, for undoubtedly 
the majority even of our mental states is involuntary ; we must 
believe and perceive, when evidence or objects are presented 
to us. These cases we are not completely acquainted with; 
strictly speaking, the efficient cause of them comes not within 
the range of our knowledge. But voluntary acts we do know 
thoroughly ; the efficient cause of them — namely, our own will 

— does He entirely within the sphere of our consciousness, and 
is known to be in immediate contact, as it were, with the effect. 
Hence, association leads us to believe that every other event 
must have a cause, and that, if we had the thorough knowledge 
of it which we have of a voluntary act, it would be seen to pro- 
ceed from a cause ; and this cause is naturally sought for in the 
immediately antecedent event. Every action of our lives, every 
volition, appears in this character ; so that it is by no narrow 
and insufficient induction, but by one that is coextensive with 
our whole conscious existence, the acts which form its basis 
recurring at every instant, that we are led to the general law, 
that no phenomenon occurs without a cause. 

The universal and necessary character of the law of causation, 
that " every event must have a cause," may be accounted for in 
another way. It may be traced to our intuitive appreciation of 
the fundamental and essential distinction between matter and 



THE IDEA OF CAUSE. 93 

mind, — to the first act of self-consciousness by which the me is 
distinguished from the not-me.* In that primitive cognition, we 
are directly conscious of the me as essentially active, and the 
not-me as essentially inert or passive. This is the necessary 
antithesis which the thinking being establishes between himself 
and the outward world, just as soon as he arrives at a conscious- 
ness of either. He necessarily attributes power and activity to 
himself, for he cannot imagine, he cannot even think, himself 
deprived of power, or, what is the same thing, of will ; for in our 
analysis, the two tnings are identical. Imagine yourself, if you 
can, deprived even of the power to will ; you cannot do it. 
Outward restraint is nothing ; bars and fetters cannot bind the 
soul. Paralysis is nothing ; we can yet will to move the limb, 
though it remains fixed. The effort may be apparently power- 
less as to its effect upon the limb ; but it is still an effort, and 
can always be made. You cannot cease to be conscious of a 
power to will, without ceasing to be conscious of yourself. 



* I here adopt an important distinction from Mr. De Morgan, who first 
clearly stated it in his " Formal Logic." 

" When a name is clearly understood," he observes, " the name applies 
to every thing, in one way or the other, [i. e. positively or negatively.] The 
word man has an application both to Alexander and Bucephalus ; the first 
was a man, the second was not. In the formation of language, a great 
many names are, as to their original signification, of a' purely negative 
character ; thus, parallels ai*e only lines which do not meet ; aliens are men 
who are not Britons, (that is, in our country). If language were as copious 
and as perfect as we could imagine it to be, for every name which has a 
positive signification, we should have another which merely implies all 
other things ; thus, as we have a name for a tree, we should have another to 
signify every thing that is not a tree. As it is, we have sometimes a name 
for the positive, and none for the negative, as in tree ; sometimes for the 
negative, and none for the positive, as in -parallels ; sometimes for both, as 
in a frequent use of person and thing." 

" Let us take a pair of contrary names, as man and not-man. It is plain 
that, between them, they represent every thing imaginable or real, in the uni- 
verse." 

Obviously, then, every judgment founded upon the antithesis between 
the me and the not-me must be a universal judgment; for these two terms, 
between them, comprise the universe. 



94 THE IDEA OF CAUSE. 

Now, the outward world first manifests itself to us as an ob- 
stacle, a limitation, a resistance to be overcome. Our first 
knowledge of its existence is a perception of its inertness, or 
want of power, — its essential passivity. We cannot cease to 
recognize this quality in it, without losing consciousness also of 
that which renders it different from ourselves. Every thing 
which is foreign to the perceiving mind is perceived to be in 
antagonism with it ; as the one is known only under the condi- 
tions of life and activity, the other is recognized only as dead 
and motionless. Because matter is perceived, through its an- 
tagonism with mind, to be essentially inert, we say that every 
change in its state must have a cause, or that mind, the only 
true energy, or source of power, with which we are acquainted, 
must be acting upon it, either from within or without. As all 
actual and all imaginable existence must be either identified 
with the me, that is, with mind, or considered as foreign to it, 
that is, as matter, it must also be conceived either as essentially 
active, or essentially inert. Here, then, we find a basis for the 
universal law of causation. 

All the phraseology of causation is borrowed from mind. — 
This doctrine derives confirmation from the fact, that all the 
phraseology employed in speaking of the successive generaliza- 
tions of the science of events is borrowed from the action of 
mind. The word action itself has no real significance, except 
when applied to the doings of an intelligent agent ; we cannot 
speak of the doings of matter, as we could if the word action 
were applicable to it in any other than a figurative sense. Let 
any one conceive, if he can, of any power, energy, or force in- 
herent in a lump of matter, — a stone, for instance, — except 
this merely negative one, that it always and necessarily remains 
in its present state, whether this be of rest or motion. Again, 
in speaking of the similarity of facts and the regularity of se- 
quences, we refer them to a law of nature, just as if they were 
sentient beings acting under the will of a sovereign. Chemical 
affinities, also, are spoken of, as if material elements were united 
by family ties, and manifested choice, or affection and aversion. 
We attribute force, or power, to the particles of matter, and 



THE IDEA OF CAUSE. 95 

speak of their natural agencies. Just so, we talk of tone in 
coloring, and of a heavy or light sound ; thougb, of course, in 
the proper significance of these words, tone belongs only to 
sound, and heaviness to gravitating bodies. These modes of 
speech are proper enough, if their figurative character be kept 
in view ; but we ought always to remember, that agency is the 
employment of one intelligent being to act for another ; force 
and power are applicable only to will; they are characteristic 
of volition. Of course, it is a violent trope to apply either of 
them to senseless matter. 

The doctrine of immediate divine agency. — An obvious cor- 
ollary from these remarks is, that all causation is an exertion 
of mind, and is applied only by metaphor to the material uni- 
verse. It necessarily implies power, will, and action. It is a 
universally admitted truth, that an efficient cause is nowhere 
discoverable in the world without us ; we know what it is only 
from consciousness, and all our language respecting it is bor- 
rowed from mental phenomena. This doctrine places the ma- 
terial universe before us in a new light. The whole frame- 
work of what are called " secondary causes " falls to pieces. 
The laws of nature are only a figure of speech ; the powers and 
active inherent properties of material atoms are mere fictions. 
Mind alone is active ; matter is wholly passive and inert. Mind 
alone moves ; matter is moved. There is no such thing as what 
we usually call the " course of nature ; " it is nothing but the 
will of God producing certain effects in a constant and uniform 
manner ; which mode of action, however, being arbitrary, or 
dependent upon will, is as easy to be altered as to be preserved. 
All events, all changes, in the external world, from the least 
even unto the greatest, are attributable directly to his will and 
power, which, being infinite, are always and necessarily adequate 
to the end proposed. The laws of motion, gravitation, affinity, 
and the like, are only expressions of the regularity and continu- 
ity of one infinite cause. The order of nature is the effect of 
Divine wisdom ; its stability is the result of Divine beneficence.* 

* Sir William Hamilton enumerates and criticizes eight different theories 
that have been framed by philosophers to account for the origin of our 



96 THE IDEA OF CAUSE. 

"judgment of causation," or irresistible belief that every event must have 
a cause. Four of these are based on experience, and affirm that the idea 
or the judgment is derived from observation ; the other four regard this 
judgment as an a ■priori cognition, — that is, a law of thought, or a condi- 
tion of experience. 

1. The opinion that we are able to detect efficient causes even in the 
outward toorld, the true nexus, or bond of union between the phenomenon 
and its cause, being exposed to observation, though it continues to be the 
belief of the vulgar, is now generally abandoned by the learned. Dr. 
Whewell is the only writer of eminence, since the days of Hume, who has 
ventured to maintain this doctrine. We have already proved that no true 
cause has been, or ever can be, discovered in the material universe. 

2. The theory maintained in this chapter, that the idea of cause has its 
origin in internal experience, in the consciousness of volition and action. 

3. We obtain our knowledge of causation by a process of induction, just* 
as we trace out other recondite laws of nature. After we have repeatedly 
observed a certain 'event to be immediately followed by another, and have 
never seen one without the other, we infer that there is a necessary union 
between them. When observation has brought to view a multitude of such 
instances, we generalize the fact into a law of nature. The objections to 
this theory are, first, that immediate succession is not causation, and sec- 
ondly, we cannot affirm that all must be, because some are. This doctrine 
would allow us to say, that an event as yet unobserved by us may take 
place without a cause ; which is contrary to the judgment of causation, 
that every event must have a cause. 

4. The judgment is the result of custom and the association of ideas. 
But Hamilton answers, " the necessity of so thinking cannot be derived 
from a custom of so thinking. The customary never reaches, never even 
approaches, to the necessary. On this theory, also, when the association 
is recent, the causal judgment should be weak ; and rise only gradually to 
full force, as custom becomes inveterate. But we do not find that this 
judgment is feebler in the young, and stronger in the old." 

These are all the theories which are based on experience ; we pass to an 
enumeration of those which give an a priori origin to our idea of cause, or 
resolve it into a law of our mental constitution. 

5. The causal judgment is a primary revelation to the intellect, or an 
ultimate principle, the genesis of which does not admit of explanation. 
This opinion is adopted by Reid, Kant, Stewart, and Cousin, and is now 
more generally received than any other. But, entia non sunt multiplicands 
prceter necessitatem ; we must not admit any phenomenon to be an ultimate 
fact, till all the modes of explaining it are proved to be unsound. This 
opinion, therefore, can only be admitted provisorily ; it falls, of course, if 
what it would explain can be explained on less onerous conditions. 

6. Dr. Brown would identify our conviction of the causal dependence 
with our presumption of the constancy of nature. But our belief in the 



THE IDEA OF CAUSE. 97 

permanency of the laws of nature only inclines us to expect that, when two 
events always have happened in immediate succession, one of them always 
will be followed by the otlifer ; while the causal judgment affirms of any one 
event, though seemingly isolated, that it must have a cause. This necessity 
to suppose a cause for every phenomenon, Dr. Brown keeps cautiously 
out of view, thus virtually eliminating all that requires explanation in the 
problem. 

7. The next theory is an endeavor to demonstrate the causal judgment 
by abstract reasoning ; in other words, to prove by argument that every 
event must have a cause. The attempt is vain, because our knowledge 
of causation is not involved or implied in any higher act of judgment or 
self-evident proposition, from which it can be deduced by analysis. The 
reasoning which would trace it to any higher principle is now universally 
admitted to be inconsequent. 

8. Sir William Hamilton's own theory resolves our positive affirmation, 
that every event must have a cause, into a mere negation, or a result of 
the incompetency of the human intellect. E nihilo nihil Jit; as we cannot 
imagine something to be created out of nothing, when a new phenomenon 
appears, we are compelled to believe that it had previously existed under 
other forms. These " other forms," under which it previously existed, are 
the causes of the phenomenon. We object to this theory, that it seems to 
confound being with doing, or existence with causation. It does not say, 
that the cause produces the effect, but that the cause is the effect ; it boldly 
identifies the two, and thus falsifies the conditions of the problem. If we 
believe that the phenomenon must have a cause, only in order to avoid 
believing that the sum of existence is increased, then the cause and the 
phenomenon are really the same existence, and no change, no event, has 
taken place. Again, the causal judgment cannot be resolved into the 
maxim e nihilo nihil Jit, for the former is the more comprehensive of the 
two ; it would be less natural to deduce the judgment from the maxim, 
than the maxim from the judgment. The inference, something cannot be 
created out of nothing, because every thing must have a cause, is surely more 
natural and more logical than to say, every event must have a cause, because 
something cannot be created out of nothing. Still farther ; the theory shows 
only the necessity of thinking that the succession of events is continuous 
— without break before or after — each phenomenon being only a disguised 
repetition of its predecessor — and no one phenomenon either really be- 
ginning to be, or really ceasing to exist. It does not prove or explain 
(what we are still obliged to believe,) that each event is produced or 
evolved by some exertion of force — some power yi action. Hamilton's 
theory, indeed, totally overlooks this notion of power, ox force, though it is 
a necessary element in our idea of causation. The theoiy explains only 
the succession, or continuity of events. 

9 % 



98 FATALISM AND FREEWILL. 

CHAPTER V. 

FATALISM AND FREEWILL. 

Summary of the last chapter. — The question respecting the 
origin and validity of our idea of cause, which formed the topic 
of the last chapter, has been greatly obscured and perplexed, 
because it involves several distinct inquiries, which are too fre- 
quently confounded with each other. I endeavored to separate 
them, and to consider each one by itself in the natural order. 
First, the popular acceptation ,of the word cause was observed 
to be also its strict and metaphysical meaning ; as efficiency is 
universally attributed to causation, and a necessary connection 
is believed to exist between cause and effect. But in opposi- 
tion to the common belief, it was proved that we can nowhere 
detect such causes in the material universe ; the observation of 
external nature never has led, and never can lead, to the dis- 
covery of any thing beyond the invariable succession of events, 
or the fixed relation of antecedence and consequence, — a rela- 
tion which differs as widely from that of cause and effect, as any 
two distinct conceptions, which the mind is capable of forming, 
do from each other. But our inability to discover such causes 
in the world of matter, is no proof (1.) that they are not to be 
found anywhere ; for there is clear and indisputable evidence 
that they exist in the world of consciousness, — every act, every 
volition, of a conscious agent being a true cause. This inability 
does not even prove (2.) that there are no such causes operat- 
ing in external nature, as the limits of our faculty of investiga- 
tion and discovery are not, surely, the limits of the possibility 
of things ; — and the general proposition, that every change or 
event must have a cause, is one that we can no more doubt 
than we can disbelieve that two and two make four. For a still 
stronger reason, this inability does not prove (3.) that we have 
no idea of efficient cause, and therefore no knowledge of what 



FATALISM AND FREEWILL. 99 

the word power means ; — for the very existence of the problem, 
this very search after real causes, shows that we have a clear 
idea of some connection between two events«which is funda- 
mentally different from mere succession, or contiguity in time. 
The arguments and illustrations which I adduced, went to dis- 
prove these three forms of skepticism, these three unfounded 
conclusions, or false inferences from the admitted fact, that our 
feeble powers of observation and analysis cannot discover any 
efficient cause whatever in the material universe. 

The doctrine of immediate Divine agency. — In arguing 
against these skeptical views, we were led incidentally to state 
and defend what I believe to be the true doctrine of causation; 
— namely, that one particle of matter never acts on another 
particle; for nearly all philosophers admit that we have no 
proof of such action, and when we come to look closely into the 
subject, it appears even inconceivable that inert matter should 
thus act, or have any real power. In truth, action is never 
even attributed to matter, except by a metaphor, or figure of 
speech, as is clearly shown by an examination of the language 
usually employed. The only real action, of which we have any 
knowledge or distinct conception, is that of mind or person ; and 
the field of this activity is not only the mind itself, but the ma- 
terial structure, the congeries of bones, muscles, and nerves, 
which we inhabit, all the voluntary motions of which are pro- 
duced and governed by the indwelling spirit, the kingly and in- 
divisible will. Thus we came to the conclusion, that spirit 
alone moves, while matter is moved, and that this union, for a 
time, of a body with our personality, shadows forth a connection 
between the material universe and the Infinite One. How 
else, indeed, can we attach any meaning to the attributes . of 
Omnipresence and Omnipotence ? The unity of action, the reg- 
ularity of antecedence and consequence in outward events, 
which we commonly designate by the lame metaphor of law, 
then become the fitting expression of the consistent doings of an 
all-wise Being, in whom there is no variableness, neither shadow 
of turning. Our bodies, then, are kindred to organic nature, or 
the external universe, in a double sense ; both are fashioned 



100 FATALISM AND FREEWILL. 

from the same materials, from particles of brute matter, and 
both are informed, actuated, and controlled by an indwelling 
person ; every atom in this tenement of clay being really sub- 
ject to his sovereign will, though in the one case, that will or 
power (for the two expressions are synonymous) is infinite, and 
in the other it is finite, or limited, so that the whole result which 
was contemplated does not always follow. The Creator, then, 
is no longer banished from his creation, nor is the latter an or- 
phan, or a deserted child. It is not a great machine, that was 
wound up at the beginning, and has continued to run on ever 
since, without aid or direction from its artificer. As well might 
we conceive of the body of a man moving about, and perform- 
ing all its appropriate functions, without the principle of life, or 
the indwelling of an immortal soul. The universe is not lifeless 
or soulless. It is informed by God's spirit, pervaded by his 
power, moved by his wisdom, directed by his beneficence, con- 
trolled by his justice. The harmony of physical and moral laws 
is not a mere fancy, nor a forced analogy ; they are both ex- 
pressions of the same will, manifestations of the same spirit. 
The sublime language of the poet, then becomes the simple 
expression of a philosophical and religious truth : — 

" I hare felt 
A presence that disturbs me with the joy 
Of elevated thoughts ; a sense sublime 
Of something far more deeply interfused, 
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, 
And the round ocean, and the living air, 

And the blue sky ; 

A motion and a spirit, that impels 

all objects of all thought, 

And rolls through all things." 

The admirer of Wordsworth will perceive that I have omit- 
ted portions of lines, which deform this sublime conception with 
the dark and mystical doctrine of pantheism, — a doctrine which 
no one will confound with the system here developed, who re- 
members that the complex structure, which is our outward 
integument for a season, is really foreign to the person, and dis- 
tinct from the will, or power, by which it is moved and gov- 



FATALISM AND FREEWILL. 101 

erned. Pantheism is to the Deity what materialism is to man, 
a mere denial of any spiritual existence, and the extinction of 
all idea of personality. 

Objections to this theory considered. — The objection to this 
theory of causation, that it is beneath the dignity of the Almighty 
to put his hand to every thing, is founded on a false analogy, as 
is seen by the form in which Aristotle states it. " If it befit not 
the state and majesty of Xerxes, the great king of Persia, that 
he should stoop to do all the meanest offices himself, much less 
can this be thought suitable for God." The two cases do not 
correspond in the very feature essential to the argument. An 
earthly potentate, unable to execute with his own hand all the 
affairs of which he has control, is obliged to delegate the larger 
portion of them to his servants ; selecting the lightest part for 
himself, he gratifies his pride by calling it also the noblest; 
though the distinction is factitious, there being no real differ- 
ence, in point of honor or dignity, between them. But Omnip- 
otence needs no minister, and is not exhausted or wearied by 
the care of a universe. Power in action is more truly sublime 
than power in repose ; and surely it is not derogatory to Divine 
energy to sustain and continue that which it was certainly not 
beneath Divine wisdom to create and appoint. Rightly con- 
sidered, to guide the falling of a leaf from a tree is an office as 
worthy of Omnipotence as the creation of a world. "Are not 
two sparrows sold for a farthing ? and one of them shall not fall 
on the ground without your Father." 

Equally lame is the oft-repeated comparison of the universe 
to a machine of man's device, which is considered the more per- 
fect the less mending or interposition it requires. A machine 
is a labor-saving contrivance, fitted to supply the weakness and 
deficiencies of him who uses it. Where the want does not exist, 
it is absurd to suppose the creation of a remedy. Human con- 
ceptions of the Deity are for ever at fault in imputing to him 
the errors and deficiencies which belong to our own limited fac- 
ulties and dependent condition. Hence the idea of the Epicu- 
reans, that sublime indifference and unbroken repose are the 

9* 



102 FATALISM AND FREEWILL. 

only states of being worthy of the gods. Viewed in the light 
of true philosophy, no less than of Christianity, how base and 
grovelling does this conception appear ! Substitute for it the 
Christian idea of the unceasing watchfulness of a Parent, and 
the active and constant beneficence of an Almighty Father and 
Friend, and it sinks into its true character, as a degrading doc- 
trine of heathen mythology. 

Divine action equally incessant in the physical and moral uni- 
verse. — In truth, we have only to decide whether it is more 
likely that the complex system of things in the midst of which 
we live, — the beautiful harmonies between the organic and the 
inorganic world, the nice arrangements and curious adaptations 
that obtain in each, the simplicity and uniformity of the general 
plan to .which the vast multitude of details may be reduced, — 
whether this system, I say, is now sustained, and prevented 
from falling into nothingness and ruin, by one all-wise and all- 
powerful Being, or by particles of brute matter, acting of them- 
selves, without any immediate direction, oversight, or control. 
Remember we have no proof, that such particles can exert any 
causal agency whatever ; that science never has discovered, and 
never can discover, a single efficient cause, properly belonging 
to matter, in the whole material universe ; that the only power 
in action with which we are acquainted, is that of mind upon 
matter, and upon itself, as evinced in our own consciousness, 
and in the voluntary movements of our bodies dependent on the 
will or person within ; and that the almost unceasing movement 
and change of all the material particles around us, that are not 
dependent upon our own wills, is a fact to be accounted for by 
some efficient and adequate cause. The moral government of 
God is admitted to be direct, incessant, and continuous, by all 
theists who admit his moral attributes, and who thereby furnish 
a basis for religious faith and practice. This is evident from 
all the ordinances of religion ; prayer being a mockery, unless 
we believe it is heard, and worship not really obligatory, unless 
it is specially enjoined. Then why is not his physical govern- 
ment, so to speak, his causation and control of movement and 



FATALISM AND FREEWILL. 103 

change in the material universe, equally immediate and unceas- 
ing ? * I believe that it is, and when rightly viewed, the flut- 



* In his strictures upon this doctrine and the reasonings by which it is 
supported, Mr. J. S. Mill objects to " the inference that, because Volition 
is an efficient cause, therefore it is the only cause, and the direct agent in 
producing even what is apparently produced by something else. Voli- 
tions," he says, " are not known to produce any thing directly except ner- 
vous action, for the will influences even the muscles only through the 
nerves. Though it were granted, then, that every phenomenon has an 
efficient, and not merely a phenomenal cause, and that volition, in the case 
of the particular phenomena which are known to be produced by it, is 
that efficient cause ; are we therefore to say, with these writers, that since 
we know of no other efficient cause, and ought not to assume one without 
evidence, there is no other, and volition is the direct cause of all phenom- 
ena ? A more outrageous stretch of inference could hardly be made." 
And again, " The supporters of the Volition Theory," which is the name 
he gives to the doctrine of the Immediate Agency of the Deity, " ask us to 
infer that volition causes every thing, for no reason except that it causes one 
particular thing ; although that one phenomenon, far from being a type of 
all natural phenomena, is eminently peculiar ; its laws bearing scarcely 
any resemblance to those of any other phenomenon, whether of inorganic 
or of organic nature." — System of Logic, 3d ed. vol. i. pp. 370-372. 

"We presume Mr. Mill will admit it to be a sound logical maxim, that 
no more causes must be assigned than what are absolutely necessary to account for 
the phenomena. The reasoning to which he objects may be briefly stated 
thus : — Volition is the only known power in the universe ; changes in mat- 
ter are the phenomena to be accounted for; and as many such changes (to 
wit, the movements of our own limbs and bodily organs,) are confessedly 
produced by human volition, the residue of them must be attributed to some 
other Will, which, by its omnipresence and omnipotence, is capable of 
producing them. 

We contend that this reasoning is eminently logical, and in proof of this 
assertion, we once more cite against Mr. Mill his own System of Logic. 
The reasoning here employed is what he calls the method of " induction 
by simple enumeration," — a law being assumed to hold good in all cases, 
because it has been found to hold good inmany cases, and not one instance 
has been found to the contrary. It is curious to find Mr. Mill, in the fol- 
lowing passage, asserting that this process is entirely valid and legitimate 
in reference to the law of universal causation, the very instance to which 
we are here applying it. 

" Induction by simple enumeration," he says, "or, in other words, gen- 
eralization of an observed fact from the mere absence of any known in- 



104 FATALISM AND FREEWILL. 

tering of a leaf to the ground, after it has been disengaged from 
its parent bough, furnishes evidence of Divine agency as direct 
as if the grave should give up its dead. 

" Estoe Dei sedes, nisi terra, et pontus, et aer, 
Et coelum, et virtus ? Superos quid queerimus ultra 1 
Jupiter est quodcumque vides, quocumque inoveris." 

Birth is surely as wonderful — as miraculous, if that term be 
preferred — as resuscitation ; and birth is constantly going on 
all around us. The greater frequency of the act certainly does 
not lessen its marvellousness, or render it easier of accomplish- 
ment ; though the repetition exhausts and deadens our emotion 
of wonder, and we then conceal under the lame metaphor of 

stance to the contrary, is by no means the illicit logical process in all cases 
which it is in most. It is delusive and insufficient exactly in proportion 
as the subject-matter of the observation is special and limited in extent. 
As the sphere widens, this unscientific method becomes less and less liable 
to mislead ; and the most universal class of truths, the law of causation, for 
instance, and the principles of number and geometry, are duly and satisfac- 
torily proved by that method alone, nor are they susceptible of any other proof"' 
— Id. Book III. ch. xxi. § 2. 

The case we are now considering is one of universal generalization ; it 
embraces all the phenomena of the material universe, every change in which 
requires a cause. Human bodies, of course, are a part of this universe, — 
as much so as the ground these bodies tread upon, or the air they breathe. 
All the voluntary movements of these bodies, which are repeated and varied 
till their number exceeds all calculation, are known to proceed from the 
Will as their efficient cause ; and the Will is the only known instance of effi- 
cient causation in the universe. The law of " induction by simple enumera- 
tion," then, is strictly applicable in this case ; and the conclusion to which 
it leads us, is, that all other physical events — from the quivering of an 
aspen leaf up to the flight of the planets in their courses — are also attrib- 
utable to Will, and that Will must be one proportioned in power and com- 
prehensiveness to the variety and grandeur of its effects. That this "Will 
belongs to a Being differing from all those whose existence is made known 
to us by the testimony of the senses, is not a circumstance which vitiates 
the argument, for the reasoning is addressed only to the Theist. The 
muscular movements of different individuals are ascribed respectively to 
the volitions of those individuals. The Will has efficient causative agency 
as such, and not because it is the Will of one man or another — not because 
it is human or divine. 



FATALISM AND FREEWILL. 105 

law, and the blank hypothesis of machinery, the direct and per- 
petually recurring action of Deity. 

The argument for the Divine existence, then, is ever freshly 
presented to us by the continuance, no less than by the begin- 
ning, of all things. It proceeds not only from the creation of 
the race, but from the birth of the individual. In the seed 
which swelled under the last night's rain, in the shoot which 
appeared under this morning's sun, we find proof of ever-pres- 
ent and ever-acting power. To the reflecting theist, 

" The world's tmwithered countenance 
Is "bright as at creation's day," 

and reflects its Maker's image just as clearly. 

The fatalistic doctrine of causation. — The doctrine of causa- 
tion which I have thus endeavored to develop, stands in striking 
contrast with the only other theory of it which I find occasion 
here to notice, — a theory, indeed, which does not rest upon any 
new fundamental principle, but, beginning with the general law 
of causation as applied to the physical universe, carries it out in 
all its universality, with an affectation of great logical rigor, to 
its inevitable conclusion in a sweeping system of fatalism. It 
would be difficult to find a more impressive illustration than is 
afforded by this theory, of the danger of commencing with a 
single abstract proposition, asserted to be original and spontane- 
ous, a necessary and universal law of human belief, and pushing 
it, in all its strictness, to its remotest consequences, unchecked 
by facts, and unappalled either by the irrational or the revolting 
character of the principles to which it leads. It furnishes the 
most striking example of the mischief of applying metaphysical 
reasoning to practical subjects. 

The theory begins with the general law of causality, — that 
every event must have a cause, — this being understood either 
absolutely, or, as in its application to material phenomena, to 
signify only invariable antecedence and consequence. The 
whole doctrine depends on this word invariable, taken absolutely, 
and on the assumed universality and necessary character of the 
kw itself, in virtue of its primitive and categorical nature. 



106 FATALISM AND FREEWILL. 

Every event, of course, is surrounded by other events, and 
must be considered as being at the same time both antecedent 
and consequent, — as necessarily resulting from those which 
preceded, and necessarily followed by those which come after it, 
— and thus, as forming one link in an adamantine chain which 
extends from eternity to eternity. All occurrences whatever 
have their environment of circumstances, with which they stand 
in necessary and fixed relations by an absolute law ; and the 
state of the universe at any one moment, in all its parts, from 
the creation of a world to the stirring of an aspen leaf, could 
not possibly have been different from what it is. Still further, 
the system is not content, after thus " binding Nature fast in 
fate," to " leave free the human will." Every volition, every 
act, of a conscious agent is preceded by certain states of mind, 
certain sensations, beliefs, and emotions, all involuntary, upon 
which it is necessarily consequent ; and it could no more have 
been unlike what it is, than our earth could suddenly and cause- 
lessly cease turning upon its axis, and revolving round the sun. 
Nay, more ; — with a Titan-like audacity of speculation, we 
must scale the throne of Omnipotence itself, and say — if the 
utterance of such a doctrine be not blasphemy — that every 
thought and act even of the Almighty is but the inevitable con- 
sequence of all that has gone before, the necessary cause or 
forerunner of all that comes after it. 

Consequences of this doctrine. — I have endeavored to pre- 
sent this astounding theory in its simplest and most abstract 
form, in order to show clearly the grounds on which it rests, 
and the nature of the reasoning by which it is supported. It 
is the consistent and thorough application of a single abstract 
principle, assumed to be a primitive and necessary law of the 
human understanding, to the whole order of actual, possible, 
and conceivable events. Unlike the skepticism of Hume, which 
aims merely to shake all convictions, and to reduce all princi- 
ples to uncertainty and doubt, this system appears as the dog- 
matism of infidelity, the demonstration of fatalism. If we are 
entitled to reason a priori about matters of fact, these are the 
conclusions in which we must rest. Belief in a miracle, of 



FATALISM AND FREEWILL. 107 

course, is an absurdity ; a revelation from God to man is an 
impossible idea. All evidence, all testimony, adduced in proof 
of such events, must be rejected at once, and without examina- 
tion ; it can be nothing but moral evidence, made up of contin- 
gent truths, which, in the presence of necessary convictions, or 
truths known a priori, vanish like mist before the sun. This 
theory is the pivot on which the whole system of Spinoza rests 
and turns, and it is the avowed essence of German Transcen- 
dentalism. As such, it is taken up and expounded with singu- 
lar clearness and method by Fichte, who is far the ablest rea- 
soner in that school, not even excepting Kant. In Fichte's 
work on the Destination of Man, which contains a summary of 
his philosophical opinions, it is so fully developed, that I shall 
give you the application of it mostly in his own words. 

Fichte's exposition of Fatalism. — " Why, then, has Nature," 
asks Fichte, " amidst the manifold, infinite, possible varieties of 
being, assumed precisely these, and no others ? For this rea- 
son, — that certain others had preceded them, and these, in the 
same manner, will determine those which shall follow; and 
these again, others, to infinity. Were the smallest thing at the 
present moment different from what it is, then necessarily, in 
the following moment, would something else be different, and 
again in the succeeding one, and so on for ever 

" In every moment of her duration, Nature is one connected 
whole ; in every moment must every individual part be what it 
is, because all others are what they are ; and a single grain of 
sand could not be moved from its place, without, however im- 
perceptibly to us, changing something throughout all parts of 
the immeasurable whole. Every moment of duration is deter- 
mined by all past moments, and will determine all future mo- 
ments ; and even the position of a grain of sand cannot be con- 
ceived other than it is, without supposing other changes, to an 
indefinite extent. Let us imagine, for instance, this grain of 
sand lying some few feet further inland than it actually does ; 
then must the storm-wind that drove it in from the sea-shore 
have been stronger than it actually was ; then must the pre- 
ceding state of the atmosphere, by which this wind was occa- 



108 FATALISM AND FREEWILL. 

sioned, and its degree of strength, determined, have been differ 
ent from what it actually was, and the previous changes which 
gave rise to this particular weather, and so on. We must sup- 
pose a different temperature from that "which really existed, — 
a different constitution of the bodies which influenced this tem- 
perature : the fertility or barrenness of countries, the duration 
of the life of man, depend, unquestionably, in a great degree on 
temperature. How can we know, since it is not given us to 
penetrate the arcana of nature, and it is therefore allowable to 
speak of possibilities, — how can we know, that in such a state 
of the weather as we have been supposing, in order to carry 
this grain of sand a few yards further, some ancestor of yours 
might not have perished from hunger, or cold, or heat, long be- 
fore the birth of that son from whom you are descended, and 
thus you might never have been at all ; and all that you have 
ever done, and all that you ever hope to do in this world, must 
have been hindered, in order that a grain of sand might lie in 
a different place ? 

" I myself, with all that I call mine, am but a link in this chain 
of rigid natural necessity. There was a time, — so others tell 
me, and although I am not immediately conscious of it, I am 
compelled by reason to admit it as a truth, — there was a time 
in which I was not, and a moment in which I began to be. I 
then only existed for others, not yet for myself. Since then, 
myself, my conscious being, has gradually developed itself, and 
I have discovered in myself certain faculties and capacities, 
wants, and natural desires. I am a definite creature, which 
came into existence at a certain time. I have not come into 
existence by my own power. It would be the highest absurd- 
ity to suppose that, before I was at all, I could bring myself 
into existence ; I have, then, been called into being by a power 
out of myself. And what should this be but the universal 
power of Nature, of which I form a part ? The time at which 
my existence commenced, and the attributes belonging to me, 
were determined by this universal power of Nature ; and all 
the forms under which these my inborn attributes have since 
manifested themselves, have been determined by the selfsame 



FATALISM AND FREEWILL. 109 

power. It was impossible that, instead of me, another should 
have arisen ; — it is impossible that, at any moment of my ex- 
istence, I should be other than what I am. 

" That my successive states of being have been accompanied 
by consciousness, that some of them, such as thoughts, resolu- 
tions, and the like, appear to be nothing but various modifica- 
tions of consciousness, need not perplex my reasonings. It is 
the nature of the plant regularly to develop itself; of the animal 
to move towards the attainment of certain ends ; of the man to 
think. Why should I hesitate to acknowledge the latter as an 
original power of Nature, as well as the first and second ? 
Thought is assuredly a far higher and more subtile operation of 
Nature, than the formation of a plant, or the motion of an ani- 
mal ; I cannot explain how the power of Nature can produce 
thought ; but can I better explain its operation in the produc- 
tion of a plant, in the motion of an animal ? Thought exists in 
Nature, as well as the creative power which gives birth to the 
plant. The thinking being arises and develops himself by nat- 
ural laws, and exists through Nature. There is, therefore, in 
Nature an original thinking power, as well as an original plant- 
creating power 

" Figure, motion, thought, in me, are not consequent on one 
another, but are the simultaneous and harmonious developments 
of what might be called the man-forming power, necessarily 
manifesting itself in a creature of my species. I am not what I 
am, because I think so, or will so, — nor do I think and will, be- 
cause I am, — but I am, and I think, both absolutely and nec- 
essarily. I-am that which I am, because, in the connection of 
the great whole, only such a one, and absolute^ no other, was 
possible ; and a spirit who could look through all Nature, would, 
from the knowledge of a single man, be able to determine what 
men had been before, and what they would be at any moment. 
In one person, he would obtain the knowledge of all. All that 
I am and shall be, I am and shall be of necessity, and it is im- 
possible that I should be otherwise. Give to Nature a single 
definition of a person, let it be ever so apparently trivial, — the 
course of a muscle, the turn of a hair, — she would be able, 

10 



110 FATALISM AND FREEWILL. 

had she a universal consciousness, to declare what would be 
his whole course of thought during his whole course of being. 
Most certainly I cannot, by all my repentance, by all my reso- 
lutions, produce the smallest alteration in the appointed course 
of things. I stand under the inexorable power of rigid Neces- 
sity ; should she have destined me to become a fool and a prof- 
ligate, a fool and a profligate without doubt I shall become. 
Should she have destined me to be wise and good, wise and 
good I shall doubtless be. There is neither merit nor blame to 
be ascribed to her or to me. She stands under her own laws, 
— I under hers. It would therefore contribute to my tranquil- 
ity to subject even my wishes to that power to which my exist- 
ence is entirely subject. — 0, these rebellious wishes ! " 

Practical results of fatalism. — There is no ambiguity in this 
language, no reserve in the statement of the doctrine. Fickte 
was a daring speculatist, and did not shrink from the enuncia- 
tion of the theory of philosophical necessity in all its rigor and 
completeness. The practical lesson, the rule for the conduct of 
life, which is deducible from this theory, may be very briefly 
stated ; it is the practical fatalism of the East : — Make no vain 
efforts to alter that course of things which proceeds by its own 
irresistible laws ; do not contend with your destiny. Submit to 
be carried along, like a leaf floating on the waters, whitherso- 
ever the stream may lead. Embosomed in nature, and borne 
along with it, let your passive intellect reflect like a mirror 
whatever images may stray over its surface. Utter the word 
that is in you, perform the act to which you are prompted, and 
spend no thought about the consequences of either ; these will 
inevitably come as they are determined, be your strivings and 
exclamations what they may. Strictly speaking, you do not 
act, but are acted upon ; contemplation, and not action, is your 
fate. 

Exposition of Spinoza's system. — I have said that Spinoza's 
system is but the development and completion of this theory. 
As nature is one connected whole, and I am but a part of it, 
and every individual part of it must be what it is, because all 
others are what they are, there is truly but one substance, and 



FATALISM AND FREEWILL. Ill 

that exists by necessity. Thought and extension are its attri- 
butes, and both are infinite, like the substance in which they 
inhere. The essence of a thing, or its formal cause, is its inter- 
nal constitution, or that which makes it what it is. In this 
sense, we may speak of a cause of all things, or of nature ; but it 
is an indwelling^ or immanent, cause, — and not one which is 
really distinct from the thing itself, and operates upon it from 
without. We may contemplate Nature as a cause, that is, as 
operating on itself, and causing all things in itself by its own 
inherent necessity, every event being the necessary result of 
all other events, and every part being determined, or made 
what it is, by all the other parts ; — this is the first conception, 
and in this sense, Nature is a cause, but a cause only of itself; 
it is, in technical phrase, natura naturans, or Nature working 
out itself; and thus understood, Nature is God. But we may 
also contemplate nature as an effect, as something produced, 
natura naturata, nature worked out, or made what it is ; yet, as 
before, it is so made, or worked out, only by itself, and by vir- 
tue of its own inherent and necessary laws ; — in this sense, 
there is nothing but nature, and there is no God. 

The doctrine is abstruse ; but as it is only the logical devel- 
opment of a single principle, a train of consequences drawn from 
one axiom, we cannot complain that it is unintelligible. We 
hear so much about Spinozism at the present day, its spirit 
pervades so large a portion of the reputed philosophy of our 
times, and so many of its doctrines, or corollaries from those 
doctfines, are pressed home upon us, without any distinct indi- 
cation of their source, that it is worth while to give some effort 
and attention to the attempt to understand it. 

The conception of an immanent cause illustrated. — In illus- 
tration of what I have stated, then, let me ask you to contem- 
plate a particular substance, — a piece of iron, for instance ; it 
has certain qualities, or attributes, such as hardness, weight, 
malleability, etc. ; and these qualities may be considered as the 
results, or effects, of the internal constitution of the iron, or the 
relation of its primary particles or atoms to each other. This 
internal constitution being altered or affected in any way, the 



112 FATALISM AND FREEWILL. 

qualities which result from it, or are caused by it, are altered 
also ; it becomes more or less hard, weighty, malleable, etc. ; 
perhaps it loses some quality entirely, as when it ceases to be 
malleable. This internal constitution of the body, the old phi- 
losophers called its essence, or that which makes it what it is ; 
and they wasted a great deal of labor in searching after the 
essences of things ; for, as all the qualities are derived from the 
essence, and depend upon it, if we knew the essence, we could 
tell beforehand what all its qualities must be, they being deduc- 
ible from it ; just as the geometric properties of a triangle are 
deducible from the geometric definition of a triangle. Now, as 
the qualities of a substance form our whole distinct conception 
of that substance, and as the essence produces, or causes, these 
qualities, it is quite intelligible, in one sense of the word cause, 
to say that the substance causes or determines itself; and this 
is what Spinoza means when he speaks of natura naturans, 
Nature causing itself, or being a cause ; — in which sense, Na- 
ture is God, or, in other words, God is the indwelling, or im- 
manent, cause of nature; — not a foreign cause, acting upon it, 
or creating it, from without, but its essence, or internal cause ; 
— that is, its internal constitution, on which all its qualities 
depend. 

Again, we may contemplate the piece of iron without refer- 
ence to the internal origin, or source, of its qualities, but simply 
as a particular substance manifesting certain attributes. This 
is the idea of natura naturata, or nature worked out, and exist- 
ing as a whole ; in this sense, there is nothing but nature*, and 
there is no God. Observe further, that these two ideas of na- 
ture differ only formally, and not objectively, from each other ; 
they are but two aspects of, or two modes of considering, one 
and the same Nature. So the iron is one and the same body, 
whether we regard its qualities as constantly produced or mani- 
fested — that is, caused — by its internal constitution, or essence, 
or look at it merely as an aggregate of those qualities, inhering 
in one substratum. The criticism of Dr. Reid, then, is well 
founded, when he says, that in Spinoza's system " there neither 
is, nor can be, a cause at all ; nothing acts, but every thing is 



FATALISM AND FREEWILL. 113 

acted upon ; nothing moves, but every thing is moved ; all is 
passion, without action, — all instrument, without an agent ; 
and every thing that is, or was, or shall be, has that necessary 
existence in its season, which we commonly consider as the pre- 
rogative of the First Cause." The cause that is spoken of in 
this system is not an efficient, but a formal, cause ; that is, the 
inherent necessity of the thing to exist, and to be what it is. 
The universe, or the totality of things, is presented by Spinoza 
as one connected whole, but under a double aspect : — first, as 
necessarily existing, its existence at any one moment being abso- 
lutely determined, or caused, by its existence at the preceding 
moment; and in this view, God is identified with nature, and 
we have a system of pantheism ; — secondly, as the only sub- 
stance or necessary being, without regard to the manner in 
which its successive states of being are manifested or developed ; 
and in this view, there is nothing but nature, and the scheme is 
one of atheistic fatalism. The germ of this latter doctrine may 
be found in the ancient speculation of Democritus and Leucip- 
pus, amounting to an atheistic fatality founded on the mechanical 
or corpuscular philosophy. Dr. Beid justly, says of it, that it is 
" the genuine and most tenable system of necessity ; " and if it 
be true, all reasoning to prove the existence of a First Cause 
" must be given up as fallacious." 

Spinozism the logical consequence of attributing efficient causa- 
tion to matter. — It would not be difficult to show, in respect 
even to the modified scheme of necessity that is presented by so 
cautious and temperate a speculatist as Mr. Mill, either that it 
is wholly unfounded, a baseless dream, or that it must be carried 
out, by the legitimate and consistent extension of the argument 
on which it rests, to the gigantic system, the absolute and uni- 
versal Fate, of Spinoza.* No compromise is possible with this 

* Having asserted that "there is nothing in causation but invariable, certain, 
and unconditional sequence," and having thus got rid of the idea of any ac- 
tive force or ■power, Mr. Mill thinks he has thereby effectually exorcised the 
bugbear of Fatalism, which has so long obstructed the reception of the 
doctrine of Necessity. He avows that he is a Necessarian, but he stoutly 
denies that he is a Fatalist. Men are unwilling to admit, he says, that 
10* 



114 FATALISM AND FREEWILL. 

doctrine; we must deny secondary causes altogether, or we 
must go on to Asiatic and atheistic fatalism. It is the boast of 

there is any " peculiar tie " between a man's previously formed character, 
together with his motives, on the one hand, and his actions on the other, so 
that the latter are under "a mysterious constraint" from the former. No ; 
a man's motives do not compel or force his character. There is no compul- 
sion in the case ; there is no such thing as force. If there were, Fatalism 
would be the only true doctrine. But a man's actions are " the invariable, 
certain, and unconditional" results or consequents of his motives and his 
character. The actions must have been what they are, and must be repeat- 
ed, if the same antecedents should again occur ; the man could not have 
willed otherwise than he did ; and under the same circumstances, the same 
volition would inevitably be repeated. B invariably follows A, and always 
must follow it ; yet, so long as A does not compel B to follow it, but the 
inevitableness of the sequence arises from some other source, — say, from 
the nature of things, or from a logical necessity, — then the doctrine is not 
one of Fatalism, but only of Necessity. 

Mr. Mill finds great comfort in this distinction ; but we must avow our 
opinion, that it is a distinction without a difference. We do not object to 
the Fatalist's doctrine so much on account of ivhat he asserts, as on account 
of what he denies. He asserts, that the strongest motive constrains the will 
with a despotic power, so that the volition could not have been otherwise 
than what it was. This is bad enough, and even Mr. Mill does not agree 
with him, but affirms that the motive does not constrain the will, because 
no one thing ever constrains or causes another thing. There is no such 
thing as " a peculiar tie or mysterious constraint " in any case. But the 
Fatalist denies that we are the free causes of our own actions ; and here, 
unfortunately, Mr. Mill agrees with him, and for the same reason as that 
alleged in the former instance, namely, that there is no such thing as effi- 
cient causation. If this be so, we are just as badly off as ever ; for remorse 
is illusory, and repentance is vain, if the action repented of was the " inva- 
riable, certain, and unconditional " consequence of what preceded it, so that 
it could not have been changed by any exertion of the will alone, unaided 
by a change of circumstances. 

Conscious, however, that man needs a little consolation under the fearful 
doctrine that all his volitions and actions are the inevitable consequents of 
circumstances over which he has no control, Mr. Mill tries to administer a 
drop of comfort by suggesting, that, if a person ivishes to alter his character, 
(that character being one of the antecedents which his volitions follow,) 
then the wish itself is a new antecedent, " and by no means one of the least 
influential," and it necessarily tends towards its own fulfilment. In other 
words, if the wish exists to modify the character, the character really is 
somewhat modified by that wish. But then, this wish " is given us, not by 



FATALISM AND FREEWILL. 115 

the followers of Spinoza, that their reasoning is mathematical 
and demonstrative from beginning to end ; all the forms and 

any efforts of ours, but by circumstances which we cannot help ; it comes 
to us either from external causes, or not at all." " Most true," responds 
our author ; yet if circumstances have not given us any desire about the 
matter, then we have no reason to be troubled. If we have not the wish, 
we cannot complain of its non-fulfilment. In this case, we are dumb cattle, 
driven forward by an inexorable master, Fate ; but luckily we are blind 
cattle, and do not therefore lament our destiny, because we are ignorant 
that the path along which we are driven terminates on a precipice. 

We cannot find much comfort in this suggestion. In no proper sense 
are we masters of our own destiny, if the mastership is given or withheld 
only by some circumstance over which we have no control ; and it is a 
very imperfect mastership at best, as the existence of the wish is only one 
out of the many antecedents, independent of our own will, which determine 
our whole conduct. A faint wish would have little or no effect. " If what 
we do depends on our wishing to do it," says Dr. Walker, " and our wish- 
ing to do it depends not on ourselves, then nothing depends on ourselves, 
except to be the willing and active instruments of destiny." The most de- 
cided Fatalist will readily admit, that the thoughts and wishes which come 
into our minds without any agency on our part, and whether we will or not, 
are among the circumstances which regulate our actions and shape our destiny. 

In all other respects, save the two qualifying doctrines (if they can be 
called such) which we have now fully considered, Mr. Mill is a consistent 
and rigorous Fatalist. He is too good a logician to stop short of any 
legitimate inferences from his doctrine, and too bold and independent a 
thinker to shrink from avowing these inferences, whatever they may be. 

" There is no Thing produced, no event happening, in the known uni- 
verse, which is not connected by a uniformity, or invariable sequence, with 
some one or more of the phenomena which preceded it ; insomuch that it 
will happen again as often as those phenomena occur again, and as no 
other phenomenon having the character of a counteracting cause shall co- 
exist. These antecedent phenomena, again, were connected in a similar 
manner with some that preceded them ; and so on, until we reach, as the 
ultimate step attainable by us, either the properties of some one primeval 
cause, or the conjunction of several. 

" The state of the whole universe at any instant we believe to be the 
consequence of its state at the previous instant ; insomuch that one who 
knew all the agents which exist at the present moment, their collocation in 
space, and their properties, — in other words, the laws of their agency, — 
could predict the whole subsequent history of the universe, at least unless 
some new volition of a power capable of controlling the universe shouh' 
supervene." — Vol. I. pp. 357, 358. 



116 FATALISM AND FREEWILL. 

requisitions of mathematical logic are complied with in the work 
of their master ; the reasoning is perfectly abstract, the techni- 
calities of the geometer and algebraist are preserved, and no flaw 
can be found in the demonstration. I fully admit the justice of 
this boast ; if you grant Spinoza's premises, there is no stopping 
short of Spinoza's conclusions. Once admit that efficient causa- 
tion belongs to matter, that one particle really acts on another 
particle by its inherent power or principle, and necessitates a 
change of its state, and it follows that the displacement of a 
grain of sand must alter the history of the universe. Each 
event is bound by iron necessity to all preceding and all subse- 
quent events, the chain of Fate extending from the fall of an 
atom up to the throne of God. Admit further, that the volitions 
and acts of a conscious agent are events of the same order with 
occurrences in the material universe, having their antecedents 
and consequents, with which they equally stand in invariable 
relations, and man himself is like a grain of sand, controlled and 
blown about by the winds of destiny. Thought and extension, 
then, are attributes of one infinite substance, both being mani- 
fested by the same inherent necessity, both being what they are 
because other things are what they are. 

"All are but parts of one stupendous whole, 
Whose body Nature is, and God the soul ; " — 

the word soul being here understood in the same sense as inter- 
nal constitution, or essence, — as if we should say, that it is the 
nature, or soul, of iron to be hard, weighty, and malleable. The 
parts of the great whole being thus bound together, each being 
the result of all, and alT of each, it follows, — to repeat Fichte's 
illustration, — that, the slightest particular being given, the 
course of a muscle, or the turn of a hair, in a certain individual, 
and if Nature could answer, she would be able to foretell all his 
good and evil deeds, from the beginning to the end of his life. 
An inwrought necessity extends through the whole web of 
events physical and mental, reaching from infinitude to infini- 
tude ; and this necessity is God. Nothing acts ; every thing is 
acted upon ; nothing moves, every thing is moved ; this neces- 
sity itself, being the inherent nature of things, and not an ex- 



FATALISM AND FREEWILL. 117 

ternal force, operating from without, is said only formally to 
compel, or to act, — since it is passive, not efficient. Thus the 
system of Spinoza is but the consistent and universal applica- 
tion of the law of causality, (wrongly interpreted, -as I believe,) 
but taken absolutely, to all conceivable events; it is but the 
extension of this principle, that every event must have a cause. 

It cannot be denied, that there is a kind of awful sublimity in 
this appalling doctrine, in its simplicity, consistency, and uni- 
versality, which renders it very impressive to the imagination, 
and accounts, in a great degree, for the favor with which it is 
received by many persons of a poetical temperament. An 
Oriental fable, says Mr. Stewart, " places the import of the 
doctrine in a more striking light than I could do by any philo- 
sophical comment. The Arabians tell us, that as Solomon 
(whom they supposed a magician, from his superior wisdom) 
was one day walking with a person in Palestine, his companion 
said to him, with horror, ' What hideous speotre is that which 
approaches us ? I do not like his visage. Send me, I pray 
thee, to the remotest mountain of India.' Solomon complied, 
and the very moment he was sent off, the spectre arrived. 
' Solomon,' said he, ' how came that fellow here ? I was to 
have fetched him from the remotest mountain of India.' Solo- 
mon answered, 'Angel of Death, thou wilt find him there ! ' " 

Spinozism contrasted with the doctrine of immediate divide 
agency. — I have chosen to present this terrible dogma of uni- 
versal fatalism, for the first time fully and scientifically devel- 
oped by Spinoza, in immediate juxtaposition and contrast with 
that view of causation to which we were led by the principles 
adopted in this work; — with the doctrine, that is, which de- 
nies that there is any power or efficient agency whatever in 
brute matter, even by transmission, or as derived from a higher 
source, and which ascribes all causation to spirit, or person, — 
whether finite, and therefore often inadequate, and always lim- 
ited in its sphere of action, — or infinite, and so necessarily ade- 
quate to all occasions, both controlling and sustaining the uni- 
verse of things, from the fall of a leaf up to the creation of a 
world. The two doctrines are the opposite extremes of this 



118 FATALISM AND FREEWILL. 

question ; they are the antipodes of each other. But I believe 
they are also the only logical and consistent creeds which we 
can entertain upon this subject, all intermediate views being 
imperfect and inconsequent. Begin with any event you please 
in the material universe, not immediately connected with the 
agency, real or supposed, of man, and but two suppositions re- 
specting its cause are possible. Take, for instance, the melting 
of wax in the flame ; if you believe that the flame really acts on 
the wax, that there is an inherent and underived power in the 
former to melt, and a necessity in the very constitution of the 
latter to be melted, when the two are brought together, then 
you cannot consistently stop short of Spinozism ; you must also 
believe that the fall of a leaf from a tree is at once a cause and 
a consequence directly connected with the destruction of em- 
pires, and with the movement of the planets round the sun. 
But if you believe that the flame has no power or causality of 
its own, — and all agree that none can be detected in it, — if 
you admit that the two events (namely, the bringing of the two 
substances together, and the melting of one of them) are related 
to each other only as antecedent and consequent in time, though 
invariably thus related as far as our experience extends, then 
all action is personal, or begins from mind, and what we call 
the course of nature is but the infinite activity, the constant 
government, of God. 

Hypothetical character of Spinoza's system. — For a refuta- 
tion of Spinoza's system, therefore, we have only to recapitulate 
the principles that have already been advanced. The first ar- 
gument against it is, that it is, throughout, an application of 
abstract, metaphysical reasoning to matters of fact. The idea of 
cause is metaphysical, or rather hyperphysical, as it is nowhere 
furnished by external nature, which gives us an idea only of 
the sequences of events ; and as Spinoza rejects the doctrine of 
the independent personality of the will, he could not derive it 
even from internal experience. To him, cause is a mere ab- 
straction, denoting invariability in the succession of events ; and 
to consider it, therefore, as accounting for the origin of these 
events is a mere assumption. The reasoning begins with an 



FATALISM AND FREEWILL. 119 

abstraction and an hypothesis ; given the idea of cause, or ab- 
stract invariableness of succession, and supposing that all events 
are of the same order, that is, that the active states of mind do 
not differ from the passive capacities or susceptibilities of mat- 
ter, and certain results follow. Logically, then, the reasoning 
must end where it began ; that is, in an ideal or hypothetical 
universe, in which we may suppose that this abstraction is a real- 
ity, and this assumption a fact. In its application to real occur- 
rences, or the actual universe, it must be fallacious. Spinoza 
uses demonstrative reasoning exclusively, and it has been proved 
that this can lead only to abstract conclusions. 

Spinozism confounds mind and matter. — The second objec- 
tion to the system is, that it requires thought and extension to 
be considered as attributes of one and the same substance ; the 
phenomena of mind must be placed in the same order with 
material events, and thus equally subjected to the iron rule of 
necessity. But it has been proved that person, or self, is essen- 
tially distinct from matter, as it is indivisible, and has the con- 
sciousness of activity, or of power in action ; while matter is 
infinitely divisible, and can only be acted upon ; its inertness, or 
passive submission to any forces that are applied to it, having 
no internal force wherewith to resist them, is in truth the only 
reason for believing that all its changes of state are necessary. 
"We say that the movements and changes of matter are inevi- 
table or necessary, because we perceive that matter has no power 
to act of itself, so that it must be operated upon from without ; 
and we derive this belief of power of ' some sort as essential to 
action from the phenomena of consciousness. If it were not from 
observing, that, within the proper domain of the will, no act takes 
place unless preceded by a volition, that is, by a consciousness 
of effort, we never could have arrived at a knowledge of the 
law of causality, namely, that every event must have somewhere 
an efficient cause. Now, it is the vice of Spinoza's system, that 
it ignores the idea of power altogether ; every thing is caused, 
nothing causes ; every thing is moved, nothing moves ; power is 
transmitted, as it were, from one event to another, each one 
being compelled or necessitated by that which preceded it, and 



120 FATALISM AND FREEWILL. 

in its turn compelling its consequent, and yet this power, thus 
transmitted, and thus enforcing the law of necessity, has its 
origin nowhere. We pursue its fleeting shadow through a se- 
ries of events, but can never overtake it, for the series is infinite. 
The powder exploded because the spark fell upon it ; the spark 
fell, because the flint excuded it from the steel ; the flint and 
steel were struck together by the action of a man, this action 
being the result of a volition, and this volition being necessarily 
determined by certain antecedent emotions and beliefs, these 
states of mind being inevitably consequent on certain sensations, 
and these again, on some preceding physical events ; — and so 
we proceed, tracing the chain once more through the world of 
matter, then perhaps again to a conscious mind, and so on to 
infinitude. Nature, then, according to Spinoza's system, is not 
only infinite in extent, but eternal ; strictly speaking, nothing 
ever began to be, and creation is but a dream. The power, or 
necessity, which now is, has existed from eternity, and has 
travelled down to us through an infinite series of events, never 
relaxing its iron grasp, never varying in intensity or diminish- 
ing in strength, — a blind and unconscious God. 

Power is not transmitted, but is always primitive. — Against 
this terrific and incredible conception, the 'kvaynr) of the Greek 
tragedians, place the theory of power, or causation, which I 
have endeavored here to develop. Consider power really as 
such, that is, as exerted with freedom, — not as caused, but as 
causing, not as merely transmitted, but originating afresh in 
every act. Replace mind as a distinct existence by the side of 
matter; restore personality, or self, as the most fundamental 
and the most frequently repeated of all our conceptions ; and 
thus dethrone this blind spectre of Fate, and replace a conscious 
Deity on the throne of the universe. Volition is necessarily 
followed by the act, and thus we gain the idea of the necessary 
connection between cause and effect ; but that this act propa- 
gates itself, or produces, by its own inherent energy, another 
event in the external universe, is what we have no evidence of 
whatever, either by sensible observation, or in the world of con- 
sciousness. Matter is essentially inert and passive, and for this 



FATALISM AND FREEWILL. 121 

reason, among others, we say that every change in its state must 
have a cause ; or that mind, the only true energy or source of 
power with which we are acquainted, must be operating on it 
from without or within. We do not find that agency in an 
antecedent physical event ; and it is not true that one event is, 
at the same time, or in two consecutive instants, both effect and 
cause, or produced by one phenomenon, and producing another. 
Power, or efficient agency, is needed at each step; and to find 
whence it comes, we must look to mind or person, that is, to an 
agency not caused or necessary, but voluntary. That favorite 
metaphor, of a chain of causes and effects, when literally con- 
strued, has no meaning ; it is contradictory, for it affirms and 
denies the existence of active power at each link. 

Motives do not constrain volitions. — That mental phenomena 
take place in succession, and therefore, that each volition is in- 
variably preceded by motives, desires, and beliefs, is a circum- 
stance that need not perplex our argument. The relation 
between the motives and the act is that of mere sequence in time, 
not accompanied by any consciousness of power exerted ; while 
the relation between the volition and the act, as in the case of ' 
forced attention, is truly causative, the consciousness of effort or 
exertion being perfectly distinct. To say that the motive causes 
the action, is to make the will inoperative altogether, or non- 
existent. Whatever may be the operation of motives, they 
operate on the man, or on self; whatever may be the nature of 
the action, it is not the motives which act, but the man acts. 
We must not lose sight of the absolute indivisibility of person, 
and the consequent fact, that what are called the separate fac- 
ulties of mind are but different and successive states, or condi- 
tions of being, of the same individual. There is no will, but 
only the man willing, — no motive, only the man contemplating 
various objects of desire. Now, two successive states of the 
same substance do not cause each other ; we might as well say, 
that the heat of a bar of iron, when just withdrawn from the fire, 
causes its subsequent coldness after it is exposed to the air. 
One state precedes the other, but does not cause, or necessitate, 
the other. 

11 



122 FATALISM AND FREEWILL. 

Neither external nor internal causes determine the will. — If a 
lump of matter changes its state, if from a solid, it becomes a 
liquid, or assumes a new color or a new shape, we look for the 
cause of this change to something existing out of the substance 
itself, and operating upon it from without. We do so, from our 
intuitive perception of the fact, that it is incapable of acting on 
itself, — or, in other words, of changing itself. But if incapable 
of acting on itself, how can we suppose that it is capable of act- 
ing on something else ? If it cannot change itself but through 
the intervention of a foreign cause, how can it change the state 
of another substance ? We deny, then, that one physical event 
depends on another of a similar character ; and Fichte's long 
chain of causes, from the displacement of a grain of sand up to 
the creation of a world, drops asunder at every link. In the 
world of consciousness, moreover, since there is often no external 
event to which a particular change or determination of the will 
can be attributed, the necessarian, in seeking for a cause of the 
phenomenon, is obliged to look to an antecedent state of the man 
himself — that is, to a motive, a preexistent or concomitant 
'longing or desire. He thinks to make out his theory, then, by 
saying, that the strongest motive causes the change, or, in other 
words, determines the will. But as the mind or person is abso- 
lutely single, and only exhibits itself under different phases, or 
as variously employed, the motive means nothing but the man 
himself wishing for some object ; and the determination of the 
will means nothing but the same person acting. The assertion, 
that the motive determines the will, therefore, is only an abstract 
statement of the fact, that the man wishing determines the man 
acting, or that the will determines itself, — which is precisely 
the theory of the advocate for human freedom. The necessa- 
rian theory is absurd, for it assigns an abstraction as the cause 
of a reality. 



THE ARGUMENT FOR FREE AGENCY. 123 



CHAPTER VI. 

THE ARGUMENT FOR FREE AGENCY CONTINUED : REASONING 
FROM EFFECT TO CAUSE. 

Summary of the last chapter. — The two theories of causation, 
which I have endeavored to develop, terminate respectively in 
the system of Spinoza, which is atheistic fatalism, and in that of 
freewill, which ascribes all action to mind or person, and there- 
fore attributes all changes that take place in the universe, ex- 
cept those which are caused by man, to the immediate agency 
of the Deity. These two theories are the only ones with which 
we need concern ourselves, for they alone are logical, consistent, 
and complete. No compromise is possible between them. 
Take the doctrine of necessity in its mildest and most liberal 
form, as expounded by those who shrank from the awful conse- 
quences that Spinoza deduced from it, and it will not be difficult 
to show that it is partial and inconsequent ; the premises on 
which it rests, as we might expect from the demonstrative char- 
acter of the reasoning employed, leading either to universal con- 
clusions, or to no conclusions at all. Spinozism in itself is ut- 
terly incredible and absurd, no sane man ever having actually 
believed it, or entertained it in any way, except as a mere exer- 
cise of the intellect, — the fanciful scheme of a hypothetical uni- 
verse, in which abstractions are taken for realities and assump- 
tions for facts. 

I endeavored to show further, that the argument in support 
of this monstrous system, being a mathematical one, needs to be 
complete and certain in all itc parts, so that if a breach be any- 
where made in it, the whole fabric must fall. To prove the 
falsity of any one doctrine, that is really involved in it, is to dis- 
prove the whole system. Observe, then, at how many points it 
is refuted by the principles which we have already established 



124 THE ARGUMENT FOR FREE AGENCY. 

by independent evidence. First, it begins with the assumption, 
that every physical event is caused, or necessitated, by the an- 
tecedent physical event ; while it is now admitted on all hands, 
that we never have discovered, and never can discover, between 
two physical events any necessary union whatever. Secondly, 
the system requires us to believe, that there is no distinction 
between mind and matter, but that thought and extension are 
attributes of the same substance ; while it has been proved that 
personality is essentially distinct from materiality, and that the 
acts of the will do not belong to the same class with changes in 
matter, so that reasoning from the latter to the former is wholly 
fallacious ; they have not even any qualities in common. 
Thirdly, Spinoza denies that there is any such thing as active 
power, and teaches that every event is necessarily produced by 
the inherent passivity, so to speak, of all objects, there being 
nowhere an agent, a mover, or a primal source of power ; while 
it has been shown, that in the phenomena of will, there is a con- 
sciousness of effort or exertion, which is a direct perception of 
original, and not of merely transmitted, power. Fourthly, a car- 
dinal point in the system is a denial of the freedom of the will, 
and the consequent doing away with all sense of moral obliga- 
tion, all consciousness of merit or remorse for crime ; while the 
voice of conscience imperatively declares, what we can no more 
disbelieve than we can distrust the multiplication-table or the 
axioms of the geometer, that man is accountable for his actions, 
and incurs merit or blame for deeds which he was free to commit. 
Argument for the freedom of the will continued. — In regard 
to the freedom of the will, I argued further, what all experience 
teaches, that, of two ' successive states of the same substance, the 
former is not the cause of the latter, but only its antecedent. 
Daylight is not the cause of darkness ; a headache does not 
produce the freedom from pain which follows it. The consid 
eration of motives and the subsequent volition are two successive 
states of the same person ; if there were a causal or necessary 
union between them, the latter w^ould immediately succeed the 
former ; for when the cause is present, the effect cannot be de- 
layed. But we often and involuntarily pause and dwell upon 



THE ARGUMENT FOR FREE AGENCY. 125 

various motives, holding them up in various lights, and balanc- 
ing them against each other, the will remaining quiescent during 
this process, the understanding and reason alone being active. 
Now, if the strongest motive is necessarily followed by the voli- 
tion, why is it not immediately so followed, the motives being 
certainly before the mind ? If you assert, that there is an im- 
mediate determination of the will in such a case, namely, a de- 
termination to remain quiet, or to postpone the particular action 
in view till the motives have been fully weighed, I deny the fact. 
The will certainly may remain dormant for a time, without a 
particular volition to that end. Take ' the case of a man ab- 
sorbed in some operation of pure intellect, — considering, for 
instance, the various steps of a mathematical problem ; there is 
no action of the will here, not even a volition to suspend volition. 
But the balancing of motives is as much an intellectual opera- 
tion as mathematical research ; why, then, I repeat, if motives 
necessarily act on the will, do they not determine it immediately ? 
I see not how it is possible for the necessarian to answer this 
question in conformity with his theory. 

The will is a source of power, and is not an effect. — But it is 
argued against the doctrine of the freedom of the will, that it 
requires us to believe in an uncaused event, and thus denies the 
universal application of the law of causality. How can a voli- 
tion, it is asked, take place without a cause, if it be true that 
every change, every thing which begins to exist, must have a 
cause ? I reply, that the law of causation is founded on the ac- 
knowledged inertness of matter ; because matter cannot act on 
itself, we say that every change in matter must have a cause ; 
but it does not follow that this cause is also in its turn an effect, 
and must have been caused by some antecedent event, and 
that again by another cause, and so on to infinity. This notion 
of a chain, or infinite series, of causes has already been refuted, 
because it really banishes all idea of efficient agency from the 
jniverse ; we chase the phantom of a cause along the line for 
ever, without the possibility of overtaking it. The true maxim 
is, that every physical event, every material phenomenon, must 
have a cause, because it cannot act of itself ; but it does not foU 

11* 



126 THE ARGUMENT FOR FREE AGENCY. 

low that this cause must also have a cause, for it is itself a source 
of power ; it is mind, or person, which, unlike matter, can act of 
itself, and therefore does not need a cause. It is an unauthor- 
ized extension of the law of causality, to say that every action 
of a conscious agent must have a cause, just as much as a mate- 
rial phenomenon. This would be begging the question in the 
present case, and it is refuted by the direct evidence of con- 
sciousness, which teaches us that the will is a true source of 
power in itself. We must get rid of this notion of transmitted 
power, or a chain of causes and effects, which is a mere fiction, 
founded on the interminable succession of material phenomena ; 
this succession, as we have shown again and again, is not causa- 
tion, but mere sequence in time. Each event in that succession 
must have a cause ; but this cause is not found, and never can 
be found, in the antecedent physical event, but only in some 
power, or being, acting out of the line ; and to ask for the cause 
of this being, that is, for the cause of this power, or cause of, a 
cause, is absurd. 

ReioVs statement of the doctrine of causation. — Thus, the doc- 
trine of the freedom of the will brings us back again to the 
grand dogma of the immediate agency of the Deity throughout 
creation, that is, to the omnipresence and omnipotence of God. 
In some recently published letters, from the private correspon- 
dence of Dr. Reid, I find a part of this theory of causation so 
clearly stated and illustrated, that a few passages from them 
may well be cited here. " In the strict and proper sense," says 
this philosopher, " I take an efficient cause to be a being who 
had power to produce the effect, and exerted that power for 
that purpose. Power to produce an effect supposes power not 
to produce it ; otherwise it is not power, but necessity, which is 
incompatible with power taken in a strict sense. I am not able 
to form a conception how power, in the strict sense, can be ex- 
erted without will ; nor can there be will without some degree 
of understanding. Therefore, nothing can be an efficient cause, 
in the proper sense, but an intelligent being. I believe we get 
the first conception of power, in the proper sense, from the con- 
sciousness of our own exertions ; and as all our power is exerted 



THE ARGUMENT FOR FREE AGENCY. 127 

by will, we cannot form a conception how power can be exerted 
without will. Matter cannot be the cause of any thing ; it can 
only be an instrument in the hands of a real cause." 

" Suppose, now, that you take the word cause in this strict 
sense ; its relation to its effect is so self-evidently different from 
the relation of a motive to an action, that I am jealous of a 
mathematical demonstration of a truth so self-evident. Nothing 
is more difficult than to demonstrate what is self-evident. A 
cause is a being which has a real existence ; a motive has no 
real existence, and therefore can have no active power. It is a 
thing conceived, and not a tiling that exists ; and therefore can 
neither be active, nor even passive. To say that a motive 
really acts, is as absurd as to say, that a motive drinks my 
health, or that a motive gives me a box on the ear." 

" We are early conscious of some power in ourselves to pro- 
duce some events ; and our nature leads us to think that every 
event is produced by a power similar to that which we find in 
ourselves, — that is, by will and exertion ; when a weight falls 
and hurts a child, he is angry with it, — he attributes power and 
will to every thing that seems to act. Language is formed upon 
these early sentiments, and attributes action and power to things 
that are afterwards discovered to have neither will nor power. 
By this means, the notion of action and causation is gradually 
changed ; what was essential to it at first [namely, will,] is left 
out, while the name remains ; and the term cause is applied to 
things which we believe to be inanimate and passive." 

How it came to be believed that matter is a cause. — Again, — 
" It is a curious problem in human nature, how, in the progress 
of life, we come by the lax notion of power, agency, cause, and 
effect, and to ascribe them to things that have no will nor intel- 
ligence. I am apt to think, with the Abbe Raynal, ' that sav- 
ages,' (I add children, as in the same predicament,) ' wherever 
they see motion that they cannot account for, there they suppose 
a soul.' Hence, they ascribe active power and causation to sun, 
moon, and stars, rivers, fountains, sea, air, and earth ; these are 
conceived to be causes in the strict sense. In this period of 
society, language is formed, and its fundamental rules and forms 



128 THE AEG-OIENT FOE FEEE AGENCY. 

established. Active verbs are applied only to things that are 
believed to have power and activity in the proper sense. Every 
pail: of nature which moves, without our seeing any eternal 
cause of its motion, is conceived to be a cause in the strict sense, 
and therefore is called so. At length, the more acute and spec- 
ulative few discover, that some of those things which the vulgar 
believe to be animated like themselves are inanimate, and have 
neither will nor understanding : " but they must still ' ; speak 
the common language, and suit it to their new notions as well as 
they can ; just as philosophers say with the vulgar, that the sun 
rises and sets, and the moon changes." 

Metaphysical reasoning not needed to prove the being of a 
God. — ^Vith these quotations from Dr. Reid, I conclude the 
more abstract portion of the discussion in which we are engaged. 
To some it may appear, that we have been wandering a long 
time in a mere wilderness of logic and metaphysics. B whence 
issuing, we again behold the stars." I certainly do not believe 
that it is necessary to pass through all the abstruse reasoning, 
which has thus far occupied our attention, before we can obtain 
any firm and well-grounded faith in the great doctrines of relig- 
ion. It would be an impeachment of the goodness of the 
Deity to suppose, that he has given to his creatures only such 
intimations or proofs of his own existence and his will as the 
most cultivated and ingenious minds can follow slowly and with 
great effort. On the contrary, the conclusions in this great 
argument are so obvious and direct, lying but a step from the 
premises, which are numberless, and so nearly akin to the 
mental processes which we are compelled to use for the daily 
purposes of life, that the child or the savage cannot avoid rest- 
ing in them with sufficient confidence. It is no doubtful infer- 
ence, no long and tedious process of reasoning, which connects 
all events in the history of the universe with the being and 
attributes of a God. The conclusion is so obvious, the connec- 
tion so close and striking, that it is difficult to believe that any 
mind not wilfully obtuse, or not perverted by logical subtilities 
and metaphysical abstractions, ever failed to receive it with 
perfect trust at the first view. 



THE ARGUMENT FOR FREE AGENCY. 129 

How far metaphysical reasoning is useful. — But the impor- 
tance of these preliminary considerations appears from the fact, 
that they afford a complete answer to the objections urged by 
skeptics so formidable as Spinoza, Hume, Kant, and the later 
school of German infidels. Those who are not conversant with 
the objections may safely pass over the answers to them ; but 
to many others, they may be of use from their tendency to do 
away with an impression, — now, it is to be feared, quite too 
common, — that the common proofs of the being of a God, how- 
ever satisfactory to the vulgar, will not bear the test of a sound 
philosophy or of strict logical analysis. They tend, at any rate, 
to clear the ground, to establish certain data, or sound premises 
for the argument, and to furnish logical rules for the conduct 
of the inquiry. Let us hold fast, then, to the ground which we 
have acquired, and having established certain principles, let us 
use them without doubt or hesitation for the remainder of the 
discussion. Let no one imagine, for instance, that reasoning 
from the effect to the cause, as we shall have occasion to do, is 
illogical, because Hume and others have demonstrated that phys- 
ical causes, so called, are mere antecedents, and that no power, 
or efficient energy, can be detected in them. All this is admit- 
ted ; but the only consequence of it is, not to banish the notion 
of cause altogether, but to substitute for material causes and 
transmitted power the idea of direct personal agency, accompa- 
nied by intelligence and will. Neither let the grim dogma of 
necessity, or absolute fate, any longer shadow the faith of the 
believer with the fear, lest the commands of the Almighty 
should be nugatory from his own moral inability to comply 
with them. The doctrine of freewill rests upon foundations 
which are not to be shaken by the utmost force of philosophical 
skepticism. 

Above all, let us know what we are to expect as the result 
of the inquiry, and what weight is to be given to the disparag- 
ing remark, that truths supported only by moral evidence are 
at best but contingent, and that demonstration of a fact is im- 
possible. The evidence which supports the fundamental truths 
of religion is precisely the same with that which directs all our 



130 REASONING FROM EFFECT TO CAUSE. 

conduct in life, and, in ordinary cases, no one thinks of com- 
plaining that it is insufficient. To say that it is moral, instead 
of being demonstrative, is only to admit that the truths them- 
selves are practical, and not speculative. I repeat it then, there 
can be no fears for the strength of our religious faith, if it stands 
upon the same platform with the whole round of the physical 
sciences, so that no assault can reach even its outworks, till the 
entire fabric of these sciences shall be demolished, and it be 
made to appear that all the boasted attainments of the last 
three centuries in the study of nature have been unprofitable 
and vain. 

Analysis of the common argument a posteriori. — The common 
argument a posteriori for the being of a God is divided into two 
branches, according as we seek to establish the reality of some 
cause, no matter what, simply from the presence of an effect, or 
as we endeavor to determine the nature of that cause from the 
peculiarities of the effect ; the one is reasoning from efficient, 
the other from final, causation. The one proceeds simply from 
nature up to nature's God, as from a fact otherwise inexplicable 
to that which is at once the origin and the explanation of that 
fact ; the other infers, from the peculiar character of the works 
of creation, that a purpose or design is accomplished in them, 
and consequently assumes that this design must have been pre- 
viously entertained by an intelligeiit being, having power ade- 
quate to the work. Thus, the geologist infers, from the dislo- 
cated and upheaved position of certain strata of rock, that there 
must have been some cause of the disturbance and elevation ; 
this is his first conclusion, and it is quite distinct from his sub- 
sequent inquiry, as to the time, nature, and extent of the convul- 
sion which produced the phenomena that he now seeks to ex- 
plain. This later inquiry must proceed from careful observa- 
tion of the particular facts in the case, of the minor circum- 
stances which go to prove that the grand change was produced 
by one cause rather than another. It is the former and more 
comprehensive conclusion, the validity of which we are now to 
examine. 

Criticism of Dr. Clarke's argument. — The argument is 



REASONING FROM EFFECT TO CAUSE. 131 

stated in its simplest, but not, as it seems to me, in its most log 
ical or conclusive form, by Dr. Clarke. He reasons thus: 
" Something must have existed from all eternity, — otherwise, 
the things that now are must have been produced out of nothing, 
absolutely and without cause, which is a plain contradiction in 
terms. For to say a thing is produced, and yet that there is no 
cause at all of that production, is to say that something is effected 
by nothing, — that is, it is not effected at all." I pause here to 
remark, that Dr. Clarke, in his anxiety to make his reasoning 
exclusively metaphysical, and consequently to avoid all refer- 
ence to inatters-of-fact, makes two unfounded assumptions : — 
first, that we have a metaphysical knowledge of " the things 
that now are," — a loose and indeterminate expression, which 
means, if it means any thing, the universe of animate and inan- 
imate being, though the existence of this universe is certainly 
made known to us only by physical evidence, — that is, by ex- 
perience, whether by observation through the senses, or by con- 
sciousness ; — and secondly, his assertion, that " otherwise the 
things that now are must have been produced out of nothing," 
must be understood to mean, that the things which now are must 
have begun to be without an antecedent cause ; inasmuch as to 
say that they were produced, is begging the question as to their 
producer. The reasoning is worth nothing, unless it is sup- 
ported by the general law of causality, — the law, that is, that 
every thing which begins to be must have a cause ; — and this 
law, for reasons already alleged, must be considered as the dic- 
tate of experience. Of course, Clarke's argument is of a meta- 
physical or a priori character only in name ; it is just as much 
founded on physical testimony as the argument from design. 
It proceeds from the existence of realities, made known to us 
by the senses and by consciousness, to the cause of these reali- 
ties, the ground of the inference being a general maxim, the 
truth of which is collected from experience.* 

* Dr. Clarke has proposed another argument, which is more metaphys- 
ical, and therefore less conclusive, than the one considered above. This 
second form of proof, briefly stated, is as follows. 

" Space and time are alike infinite and necessary, for we cannot even 



132 REASONING FROM EFFECT TO CAUSE. 

Still, the argument thus far, whatever may be its technical 
designation, is a valid one, and is in truth unanswerable. From 
the universe of things that are, we infer, either that these things 
have existed for ever, or that they began to be ; and if the latter, 
then there must have been a cause of their beginning of exist- 
ence ; and this cause must either have existed from eternity, or 
else it also had a cause, — and so on. Hence we are reduced 
to the alternative of admitting the existence, either of one eter- 
nal being, or of an infinite series of dependent beings, each one 
having been produced by its predecessor. So far, the argument 
is sound; but Clarke proceeds to urge several metaphysical* 
reasons, which seem to me quite unsatisfactory from the very 

conceive of their limitation or their non-existence. They are not in them 
selves substances, but attributes, and as such, necessarily presuppose a sub 
stance, without which they could not exist ; and this substance is, conse- 
quently, infinite and self-existent." 

But the word substance, as here used, is entirely indefinite: the idea 
of it includes neither personality nor intelligence. The argument, at the 
utmost, proves only that something exists, to which these attributes belong ; 
and this something, Clarke immediately assumes to be a particular Being. 
The sophism consists in this illogical transition from the general to the 
particular, from the abstract to the concrete ; and a more palpable one can 
hardly be imagined. 

Besides, the proposition that space and time are attributes, if not wholly 
unintelligible, must be understood in the same sense as the proposition, 
that human beings exist in space and time. Finite space and time are 
qualities of man, in the same way that eternity and immensity are attri- 
butes of the Supreme Being. Now, human beings are not necessary or 
self-existent. And if finite space and time do not necessitate a finite sub- 
stance, so neither do the ideas of immensity and eternity compel us to be- 
lieve in an infinite substance. 

The whole argument rests on an abuse of language. Time and space 
are not attributes, but conditions of being. We cannot conceive of any thing 
except as existent under these conditions ; but we may conceive that the 
conditions are fulfilled, while the reality is wanting. Atmospheric air, for 
instance, is a condition of man's bodily existence ; he cannot live without 
it. But air may be, as at the North Pole, where man is not. In Clarke's 
argument, the prerequisite is made to change places with the reality, or the 
thing conditioned. He infers the presence of the thing, from the fulfil- 
ment of the conditions, which is precisely inverting the two terms of the 
only legitimate inference. 



REASONING FROM EFFECT TO CAUSE. 133 

fact that they are metaphysical, for rejecting the hypothesis of 
an infinite series of created beings, and hence for resting in the 
conclusion that there is but one eternal being, who is God. 
The truth is, Clarke quite confounds two perfectly distinct mean- 
ings of the term necessity ; and on this fallacy, this confusion of 
terms, the whole of his subsequent reasoning depends. In a 
syllogism, the conclusion necessarily follows from the premises ; 
and this we call a logical necessity. For an instance of the 
other kind, take the necessary and unlimited existence of space. 
Space is indestructible ; we can conceive of the annihilation of 
matter, but not of the space which matter now occupies. Im- 
agine, if you can, the destruction of the room or space which 
this building now occupies. You can conceive easily enough of 
the annihilation of all objects within it — that this space should 
be made empty or void ; but you cannot conceive of the space 
itself as annihilated, or as no longer affording room for other 
objects. Now this necessary existence of space we may call, for 
want of a better term, a physical necessity. Clarke quite con- 
founds these two significations of the word ; having shown by 
argument which he holds to be demonstrative, that God must 
exist, that is, that there is a logical necessity for our believing in 
his existence, he goes on to reason as if he had established a 
physical necessity of the being of a God ; that is, he thought to 
prove that we can no more conceive of his non-existence, than 
we can of the non-existence of space or time. If this were so, 
atheism were impossible, and then it would be difficult to tell why 
any argument was needed, or why Clarke thought it necessary 
to write his book, if there was nobody to be convinced by it. 
As to the possibility of atheism, if a man can be so far blinded 
by metaphysical subtilties as to doubt his own existence, I do 
not see why he cannot go on to deny the being of a God. 

The universe must have had a cause. — But it was not my 
object to show that the reasoning of Clarke is fallacious, but only 
to select that portion of it which is open to no cavil or objection, 
and from this, if possible, to proceed to a satisfactory conclusion. 
Let us go back, then, to the proposition, sufficiently established 
by him, that we must believe either in one eternal being, or in an 

12 



134 REASONING FROM EFFECT TO CAUSE. 

infinite series of created beings. Are there sufficient reasons for 
rejecting the latter branch of this alternative? Metaphysical 
reasons for rejecting it I cannot find ; I frankly admit, that the 
bare conception of such an infinite series is no more impossible 
in this argument than it is, for instance, in mathematics, where 
the mere tyro will present to you the law and the sum of such a 
series without difficulty or hesitation. The presence of it is no 
more perplexing to him in the calculation, than is that of the 
expression for the root of a number which is not a perfect square 
or other power. But in mathematics, as in natural theology, 
the infinite series is possible as an abstraction, but not as a 
reality. There are physical considerations, so to speak, which 
are conclusive against the hypothesis that this vast machine of 
the universe, even on the supposition that it is continually prop- 
agating and renewing itself by the laws now in force considered 
as real causes, had no beginning, but has existed from all eter- 
nity in an infinite series of changes, decay, and restoration. I 
speak now of the universe, not as a mere aggregation of brute 
matter, which it is not, but as a vast and complex organism, all 
the parts of which are in constant and harmonious activity, and 
tenanted by various orders of life, each of which is continued in 
one direct line, and, so far as human observation has extended, 
under a permanent type. It would not be difficult, I believe, to 
establish this proposition in reference to the whole system of 
worlds, the solar and starry kingdoms, of which our earth is but 
so small a part. But we know so little of these, beyond the 
general facts that they exist, and move, or are moved, in accord- 
ance with the law of gravitation, that an argument either for or 
against their eternal existence in their present form, and under 
their present laws, would have too much the aspect of an appeal 
to human ignorance. We could only say, either on the affirma- 
tive or the negative side, that it might be so for aught that we 
knew to the contrary ; — a conclusion unsatisfactory in itself, 
likely to be overthrown by the progress of discovery, and almost 
sure to be disproved by that knowledge which we may conceive 
a superior spirit to possess, both of their external and internal 
economy. 



REASONING FROM EFFECT TO CAUSE. 135 

For a similar, but still stronger reason, I put aside here the 
question as to the eternal existence of inorganic matter, which is, 
at best, but the brute material out of which worlds are fashioned. 
Whether this exists at all, according to the ordinary conception 
of it, is doubtful ; and it is certain that we have no knowledge 
of it, that we cannot perceive it, that we cannot distinguish be- 
tween the qualities properly belonging to it in itself, and those 
imposed upon it either by our own faculties of observation, or 
by an external power. 

Physical proof that the world did begin to be. — I confine the 
inquiry, then, to the past duration of the only world with which 
we have any immediate concern, to the antecedent history of 
this earth, to the assumed continuance, through the endless ages 
that are past, of the various lines and races of animate and organic 
being, upheld only by the inherent energy of the laws, so called, 
wdiich support or direct their present existence. Have we 
proof or disproof of infinite series here ? I contend that we 
have testimony, clear, unquestioned, scientific, admitted by all 
physical inquirers who have any acquaintance with the subject, 
even by those most prejudiced against the conclusions which I 
wish to establish, that organization and life on this earth, through 
all their myriad forms, throughout the vegetable and animal — 
aye, even the mineral — kingdoms, did begin to be, and that 
within definite periods of time. We even pronounce with cer- 
tainty on their relative ages, and map out chronologically the 
history of the world, from chaos down to the time when man, 
the last comer, was introduced upon a scene which was, by 
comparison with those which had preceded it, one of perfect 
symmetry and order. Geology declares without hesitation, and 
with as much distinctness as Holy Writ, that time was when the 
earth was without form and void, and before the dry land ap- 
peared. Thence it traces down the annals of things: — first, 
the successive induction of those circumstances which rendered 
even the lowest forms of life possible ; then the creation of those 
low forms ; their subsequent utter extinction, so that they have 
no representatives among us at the present day; the filling 
of their place by higher orders of being ; and so on, through 



136 REASONING FROM EFFECT TO CAUSE. 

successive transformations of life, down to the appearance of 
man. 

I am not dwelling now on any of the more obscure and dis- 
puted doctrines of geological science. I am not resting this 
great argument on any of the theories, often contradictory, or 
very questionable, respecting the particular circumstances under 
which certain strata of rocks were raised from the bottom of an 
ocean, or certain mountains upheaved from the plain. All that 
is needed for the purposes of the present discussion may be 
found in those first principles and elementary facts of geology, 
which are now universally admitted, and which, indeed, cannot 
be denied without impeaching the trustworthy character of the 
evidence on which all physical science depends. Your own 
eyes have probably seen the fossil forms of those extinct races 
which once peopled the earth that is now our home. You have 
heard or read the history of these lost tribes, and various specu- 
lations about the catastrophes or gradual changes which swept 
them away, and the new forms of life which succeeded them. 
You have seen the marks of igneous formation or alluvial de- 
posit in the very stones on which you daily tread, and have had 
your thoughts thus carried back by necessary inference to periods 
when the first continents were raised from the bosom of the deep, 
when mountains of ice floated over what are now fertile tracts 
peopled by myriad forms of terrestrial life, or when the incan- 
descent surface of the earth still glowed with the heat which 
even now rages but a few miles below its outer rind. Then 
occurs to us, with a more impressive significance, the awful 
question which the Hebrew poet seemed to hear, as coming out 
of the whirlwind : — " Where wast thou, when I laid the founda- 
tions of the earth ? Declare, if thou hast understanding." 

I say, then, that the past continuance, through an infinite 
series of years, of that order of things which we now behold, under 
laws similar to those which now direct or express that order, is 
disproved by an amount of physical testimony that is absolutely 
conclusive. Ignorance may deny this proposition, but the in- 
structed skeptic must admit it. Remember that the point we 
are now seeking to establish is a fact, and that I am arguing it 



REASONING FROM EFFECT TO CAUSE. 137 

by an appeal to facts. You can judge whether the conviction 
produced by the mass of evidence, to which I have merely 
alluded, would be, to any appreciable extent, either confirmed or 
shaken by a metaphysical discussion of the abstract possibility 
of an infinite series of dependent beings. 

Application of the argument from effect to cause. — We have, 
then, the starting point for the application of the argument from 
the effect to the cause. Certain things began to be. At a cer- 
tain period, which is not even a very remote one, when consid- 
ered in that gigantic chronology which geological science obliges 
us to contemplate, all the present races of living things, all or- 
ganized forms that we now behold, were not. There was no 
firm-set earth on which they could tread, there were no articles 
for their aliment and sustenance, there was no atmosphere which 
they could breathe. They have subsequently come into exist- 
ence. Whence came they ? I choose to put the question in this, 
its simplest, form, in order not to perplex you with any further 
discussion, here unnecessary, of the law of causality. It is not 
enough to say, that you cannot believe, — you cannot even imag- 
ine, that this earth, once without one germ of organic life in its 
vast bosom, suddenly became tenanted with countless forms of liv- 
ing beings, without some foreign and adequate cause. Give the 
largest significance you may to what are called the laws of na- 
ture ; confound, if you will, physical with efficient causes ; say 
that the birth of an individual in the race is but the mechanical 
effect of the powers inherent in the organism of the parent ; — 
still the beginning of that race, the beginning of all races, goes 
utterly beyond the laws of nature, and obliges you to look up to 
nature's God. 

The laws of nature do not account for the introduction of a 
new species. — The skeptic's first principle is, that we must not 
admit any laws of nature, or modes of action, but those ■which ice 
now actually perceive going on around us ; we must not invent 
causes to account for certain phenomena, until we are fully satis- 
fied that the known and familiar agencies of nature are insuffi- 
cient to that end. I take him at his word. The physical laws 
which are now exposed to the observation of mankind will not 

12* 



138 REASONING FROM EFFECT TO CAUSE. 

explain the introduction of a new species, a new race, among 
those formerly in being, and certainly not the beginning of life 
itself in a world till then inanimate. If you say that the lower 
forms of life may be spontaneously generated from the dust,* 
or that higher types of being may be evolved from those next 
below them in the scale, without the exertion of any new power, 
you assert what the most careful observation, the minute and 
long continued researches of science, have failed to verify. 
Permanence of type is one of the most firmly established of those 
very laws of nature to which you ascribe inherent power, and 
which you claim to be immutable. It is the grossest incon- 

* All the races of animated beings, which are entirely "within the range 
of our powers of observation, — which have such a size and locality that 
we can study and accurately determine their organization and habits, — 
are unquestionably produced from parents of their own kind. Only the 
minute microscopic animals are now supposed to be generated spontane- 
ously ; and this alleged fact rests not on direct proof, but only on our in 
ability in certain cases to trace the process of their production in the ordi- 
nary way. As many of these animals, in their perfect state, are not more 
than the twelve thousandth part of an inch in diameter, it is not much to 
be wondered at, that we should not be able in all cases to discover their 
ova, or to follow these ova through all their stages of development into the 
complete being. It is further remarkable, that these animalcules, when 
once produced, whether by spontaneous or natural generation, are all found 
to be provided with the organs or requisite means for continuing their 
species, and, in fact, for multiplying their number from themselves with 
astonishing rapidity. As. they certainly have children, it seems reasonable 
to suppose, according to the analogy of all the higher animated tribes, that 
they also had parents. The ancients supposed, that the worms and insects 
which appear in decaying organic matter were generated there by the de- 
composition of the substance, without the previous agency of individuals 
of the same stock. Every schoolboy is acquainted with Virgil's mode of 
obtaining a new swarm of bees from the decaying carcass of a heifer. 
Subsequent researches, made with more care, and perhaps with better in- 
struments of observation, have entirely disproved the hypothesis, and show 
that the maggots were produced in every case from eggs deposited by flies 
or other insects, and were afterwards themselves developed into the state 
of perfect insects. Then it seems reasonable to believe, that the improved 
observations of future times will clear up the only remaining difficulty, 
and show how the infusory animalcules also are generated from beings of 
their own kind. 



REASONING FROM EFFECT TO CAUSE. 139 

sistency on your part to attempt to set aside, in this single case, 
those very principles, on the assumed unchangeableness, the 
inherent power, and infinite duration of which, your whole theory 
depends. In that ordinary course of nature, to which you would 
fain reduce all phenomena, so that all may seem to be mere 
continuance, and nowhere may appear a beginning of existence, 
so as to avoid any necessity for the interposition of any new 
cause or foreign power, — in this ordinary course of nature, I 
say, quadrupeds are not born from birds, nor birds from reptiles, 
nor reptiles from fishes, nor fishes from invertebrate animals ; * 

* The point chiefly relied upon to show the credibility of this doctrine 
here alluded to is the fact, that the higher animals, in their erabryotic ex- 
istence, pass through a series of changes resembling the permanent forms 
of the lower tribes. The first form of man himself resembles that which is 
permanent in the animalcule ; and thence he comes to resemble succes- 
sively a fish, a reptile, a bird, and the lower mammifers, before he attains 
his specific maturity. It is held, then, that a premature birth from an ani- 
mal of a higher kind might have instituted a new race of a lower type ; 
and that a birth unusually delayed, permitting an embryo to be still further 
advanced in the line of organization, might have created a new species of 
a higher order than the parent. Here, every thing depends on the absolute 
identity of the germs of all animals, in the lower stages of their growth. 
General resemblances and analogies are of no weight whatever ; the essen- 
tial internal organization of the ova of different species must be the same ; 
otherwise, however ripened into a mature being, whether the birth be ad- 
vanced or postponed, the individual must still belong to its parents' spe- 
cies, of which it possesses the distinctive peculiarity. Now, this point of 
tlie identity of germs is a mere assumption ; not only is it destitute of proof, — 
the whole evidence is against it. There is a degree of outward resem- 
blance, but there is no sameness. When we trace the origin of life back 
to the remotest point to w r hich our powers of observation extend, when we 
come to microscopic vesicles that can be discerned only by the highest 
magnifiers, general similarity of outward shape is all that can be predi- 
cated of them. The specific differences lie below this general resemblance 
of outward form; we cannot discern them, but we knoio that they must 
exist, and that they are essential differences ; for each one of these vesicles 
is invariably developed, if at all, into an individual of the species to which 
its parent belongs. The germinal vesicles of a tree and a quadruped are 
somewhat alike, outwardly ; so, to the hen's eyes, there is no difference 
between her own eggs and the duck's eggs which the farmer's Avife has put 
into her nest. But when she has hatched her brood, part of them are 



140 REASONING FROM EFFECT TO CAUSE. 

but each of these races continues itself by producing young after 
its own hind. It is not pretended that there is any known in- 
stance of the transmutation of species, or of the evolution, in the 
ordinary way, of any being specifically different from its parents. 
The same animal, indeed, may pass through different grades of 
development ; but these changes affect only the individual, not 
the race. The progeny of this animal must begin at the same 
point where its parent did, and run precisely the same cycle. 
The tadpole becomes a frog, but the young of that frog are tad- 
poles ; the worm becomes a winged insect, but the eggs of that 
insect are hatched into nothing but worms. These changes in 
the life of the individual, like the successive periods of the em- 
bryotic state, of infancy, and of manhood in the human being, 
are perfectly consistent with persistence of type in the race, and 
do not indicate even the possibility that a new species may be 
developed out of an old one. On the contrary, the germ must 
be considered as potentially equivalent to the whole future being, 
for it is invariably developed into that being. If there be any 
one fact unquestionably established by observation, it is, that 
each species invariably produces its like. "All the phenomena," 
says Muller, one of the first physiologists of the day, " all the 
phenomena at present observed in the animal kingdom seem to 
prove, that the species were originally created distinct, and in- 
dependent of each other. There is no remote possibility of one 
species being produced from another." 

Result of this branch of the argument. — Here, then, we rest 
the first and lowest branch of the argument a posteriori, con- 
sidering it as an established fact in physical science, that organ- 
ization and life on this earth did begin to be, within a definite 
period of time, and that none of the physiccd causes now in opera- 

found to be webfooted, and these, to her great astonishment and distress, 
immediately take to the water. Those who uphold this theory commit the 
same blunder as the poor hen. This want of consciousness that they have 
got to the end of their tether, this inability to believe that any difference 
can exist where they are not able to see it, though it is invariably indi- 
cated by future consequent differences of the most striking nature, is per- 
fectly characteristic of the rash theorist in science. 



REASONING FEOM EFFECT TO CAUSE. 141 

Hon is adequate to account for that beginning. We are led, then, 
irresistibly up to the agency of a First Cause, a power not in- 
herent hi nature, but in one sense external to it and acting upon 
it, and which, for the reason already stated, must have existed 
from everlasting. 

I have called this the loivest branch of the argument, because, 
though the conclusion seems to me to be legitimate, and even 
unavoidable, it does not fully answer our desires, nor satisfy the 
aspirations of the religious sentiment in man. To prove the 
being of a Creator only from an act of creation assumed to have 
been completed long ago, if a useful, is still a frigid, result of 
the inquiry. It seems too much like establishing some remote 
fact in history, which ceased long since to have any immediate 
interest, as its direct consequences are no longer traceable. "We 
seek to bring the argument and the doctrine home by proofs of 
the repeated, if not the continuous, agency of Omnipotence, so 
that what is almost the abstract conception of a First Cause 
may be changed into a well-grounded faith in the existence of 
an infinite and ever-watchful Father. 

The work of creation frequently renewed and extended. — One 
step, and an important one, towards this conclusion, we are able 
immediately to take. The work of creation was not a single 
act, begun and ended by a solitary exertion of power ; it was 
often renewed, and it extended over a lapse of ages which the 
imagination vainly strives to comprehend. Science has discov- 
ered an ineffaceable and undoubted record of a multitude of 
cases, in which preceding laws of nature, that had been unbroken 
for ages, were interrupted by special exertions of a foreign 
power. Mighty revolutions have often swept the face of this 
planet, hurrying nearly all former orders of life into ruin ; and 
each time, the desert was peopled anew with animated tribes 
wholly unlike their predecessors. Geology is but the history, 
chronicled in stone, of many miracles performed before man was, 
and extending far back into a past eternity. There is not an 
animal or a plant on this earth, which, as a race, is not older 
than man. Science does not contradict, it rather confirms, that 
voice of revelation or tradition which assigns about six thousand 



142 REASONING FROM EFFECT TO CAUSE. 

years as the period of man's residence upon the earth. One of 
the latest events in the geological history of the world, we are 
told, was a great submersion of the land, by which " terrestrial 
animal life was extensively, if not universally, destroyed ; " so 
that the creation of the species now in being — at least, all the 
higher species — was " a comparatively recent event, and one 
posterior generally speaking, to all the great natural transac- 
tions chronicled by geology." From this " recent event," back 
certainly as far as the time when those races began to be, the 
remains of which are now found entombed in the lowest Silurian 
rocks', the period of creation extends, — a drama of many acts 
and countless shifting scenes, each one of which leads us up to a 
knowledge of its Infinite Author. 

In truth, the assumed in variableness of the laws of nature, 
considering these only as the necessary manifestations of pow- 
ers inherent in the substances themselves, is a doctrine which 
loses all meaning, as well as probability, when we look to the 
annals of the universe for guidance, and not merely to the story 
of one life, or even of one order of being. The history of God's 
providence is not the story of a day, nor can it be interpreted 
by the experience of an hour. We must decipher even the 
record, inscribed on the rocks, of the mutations which this solid 
globe has undergone, in the vast series of ages that elapsed before 
it was peopled with beings like ourselves. If we would climb to 
the heights of this great argument, our view must be expanded 
in feeble imitation of His vision with whom a thousand years 
are but as one day. Perhaps it will be found, that these sup- 
posed breaks in the continuity of the inferior laws of nature are 
but the intercalations of a higher law, working for a nobler end ; 
that what appear as special exertions of Divine agency, are but 
the ordinary mode in which infinite wisdom works and governs ; 
that the physical is subordinate throughout to the moral uni- 
verse ; and that what man calls interruptions of the usual course 
of nature, are precisely what he might most reasonably and 
naturally expect from omnipotence and infinite benevolence 
combined. 

Parallel between human and Divine action. — The action of 



REASONING FROM EFFECT TO CAUSE. 143 

a human being, though generally inconstant and wavering, 
from his unsettled will, so that the future cannot be predicted 
from the past, is also often directed through long periods by a 
fixed purpose, and rendered uniform through the facility ac- 
quired by habit ; so that, if it were watched by a being of a 
different race, ignorant of the human constitution, and very 
limited in his period of observation, it would appear mechanical, 
and, like the regular working of a machine, to be attributable 
only to an impulse given to it at the commencement, and not 
afterwards renewed. If, however, the observation were con- 
tinued for a longer time, or if a record could be found of the 
man's whole history, the changes of action induced by altered 
circumstances, or a fluctuating purpose, would be manifest. 
Geology is such a record of the history of the universe, showing 
those breaks in the succession of events, which prove the fre- 
quent interposition of directing will and sustaining power ; each 
of them being an insoluble problem, unless we admit that such a 
will exists. If it be objected to the probability of such interrup- 
tions, that it is inconsistent with the attribute of Divine wisdom 
to suppose that the Deity ever changes his plan, or alters his 
purpose, I answer, first, he who declares that infinite wisdom 
necessarily dictates invariability of action, also assumes that he 
possesses infinite wisdom himself; and secondly, a change in the 
mode of action does not necessarily imply a change of purpose. 
The emergency may have been foreseen, the extraordinary ac- 
tion by which it was to be met may have been predetermined, 
from the foundation of the world. At any rate, this considera- 
tion is one with which, for our present object, the proof only of 
the being of a God, we have nothing to do. The facts are un- 
questionable ; that such interruptions have taken place, whether 
they argue a change of the Divine purpose or not, cannot be 
denied. Huge strata of earthbound rock, the solid framework 
of the globe itself, in characters which the school-boy now may 
read, testify to the unceasing guardianship, the frequent inter- 
vention to repair, renew, and improve, of Him who created the 
heavens and the earth, and laid the corner-stone thereof. The 
world was never an orphan, never left to the dominion of chance, 



144 REASONING FROM EFFECT TO CAUSE. 

or — what is little better — to the blind and unbroken operation 
of what are called natural laws. A Father's care watched over 
it, a Father's hand peopled it again and again with tribes of 
living things, — not by inflexible ordinances, nor by vicarious 
government through secondary means, — but even as an earthly 
parent careth for his children. 

The argument applied to the beginning of man's existence. — 
But we may go much further, and find sufficient proof of far 
more frequent intervention of Divine power in the affairs of the 
universe than that which is confirmed by geological evidence. 
Admitting, for a moment, the general principle, which I regard 
as wholly indefensible and unphilosophical, that in the material 
universe, the argument from the effect to the cause finds place 
only at the beginning of a succession of beings, and not at any 
one link in that succession, in the world of mind we have 
irrefragable evidence, at every step, which leads us up from the 
created directly to the Creator. This evidence appears in the 
essential unity of personality, in that recognition of the indivisible 
self in consciousness, on which so much stress has already been 
laid. Each person can say of himself, "I have a separate and 
indivisible existence." We may borrow again the language of 
Fichte, as it is the unwilling concession of an opponent : " I 
have not come into existence by my own power. It would be 
the highest absurdity to suppose, that before I was at all, I 
could bring myself into existence : I have, then, been called into 
being by a power out of myself." 

Starting from this admission, we say that the theory which 
Fichte adopts, and which we are here taking for granted in 
respect to the world of matter, — which refers the beginning of 
an individual's existence to the first creation of the race to which 
he belongs, which considers intelligent life as continuous through 
a succession of beings, one springing out of another, and then 
giving birth to a third, by virtue of principles infused or ma- 
chinery contrived in the race, when the original progenitor of it 
was formed, — this theory, we say, will not hold in the present 
case. It may account for the origin of the material framework, 
the habitation of clay, in which I live ; but it will not account 



REASONING FROM EFFECT TO CAUSE. 145 

for the origin of me. It is contradicted by the great fact of my 
existence as an indivisible unit. Complexity of parts, accord- 
ing to the materialist's hypothesis, is essential to the propagation 
of existence. The seed exists in the fruit ; the germ exists in 
the seed. It is afterwards taken from the fruit and the seed, 
and begins to exist as a distinct plant. But this is the com- 
mencement of its separate, not of its total being. It existed be- 
fore ; it was in the parent plant, as a part of it ; and its birth 
was not a creation, but a division of existence. The beginning 
of any material life, a tree, a flower, an animal, is not the crea- 
tion of any thing new, says the materialist, but the development 
of a germ which existed ages before, — which has lived ever 
since the world was. But the beginning of intellectual life, the 
essential unity of which is attested by consciousness, cannot be ex- 
plained by mere separation. It cannot give birth to another by 
division of itself. In fine, the materialist affirms, that birth is 
but a separation, and growth but an accretion and assimilation, 
of parts that previously existed, though in an inorganic state ; 
for it is a necessary part of this hypothesis, that the number of 
primary particles in the universe is neither more nor less than 
it was at the creation. Meeting him on his own ground, we 
reply, that his own personal existence is certain proof, that at 
least one unit has been added to the mass of being since the 
formation of the universe. Of course, we have every reason 
from analogy to believe, that the beginning of life in all cases, 
even animal and vegetable, is the addition of a unit to the sum 
of being, and therefore a direct act of creation, as much so as the 
building of a world or a system. But only in intellectual life 
have we positive evidence of this fact from consciousness. 

13 



146 THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OP THE DEITY. 



CHAPTER VII. 

ALL EVENTS IN THE MATERIAL UNIVERSE A PROOF OF THE 
PRESENCE AND THE AGENCY OF GOD. 

Summary of the last chapter. — After completing, in the last 
chapter, a very brief exposition of the freedom of the will, the 
subject of the common argument a posteriori to prove the being 
of a God was taken up with a View, not so much to restate it, 
or to enter into its details, as to determine its logical character, 
and to consider its claims as a just and philosophical specimen 
of reasoning. Having shown, on a former occasion, that the 
doctrines of theology related to matters of fact, I endeavored to 
prove that the evidence in their favor was such as might be 
expected in physical science, — that it was to be gathered from 
observation and experience. The other sciences are to be laid 
under contribution for this end ; geology, in particular, consid- 
ered as a record of the antecedent history of this earth, might 
be expected to furnish proofs of the agency of that Being by 
whom this earth, with all that it inhabit, was created and sus- 
tained. 

Taking the first, and certainly the more abstract, branch of the 
argument, — that which infers the reality of a cause simply from 
the presence of the effect, without regard to the peculiarities of 
that effect, — I attempted to show, even from the most recently 
and best established facts in geology and zoology, that events 
had taken place, or things had begun to exist, which the ordi- 
nary laws of nature, as they are called, cannot account for, and 
which, consequently, must be referred to the agency of the 
great First Cause. If you reject this inference, you must deny, 
either that organization and life on this earth did begin to be, 
that is, you must reject many of the best accredited conclusions 
of modern science, on which, indeed, some entire sciences ex- 
clusively depend ; or you must assert, that an event can take 



THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY. 147 

place without a cause, and thus contradict what is either an 
intuitive axiom, or a principle founded on the largest induction 
of which the human mind is capable. The metaphysical reason- 
ing of Clarke on this subject was shown to be unsatisfactory, 
chiefly on the ground that it is metaphysical; and therefore 
the conclusion, which is a fact, cannot be inferred from the 
premises, so far as these are mere abstractions, without really 
begging the question. It was further proved, that creation was 
not a solitary act, begun and completed long ago, but rather 
that it consisted of numberless acts, extending over vast periods 
of time ; and thus that it afforded not merely increased proofs 
of the Divine existence, but satisfactory evidence, also, of the 
renewed and repeated, if not the continuous, exertion of Divine 
power. This last conclusion was strengthened and brought 
still nearer home through the testimony of consciousness, that 
person, or self, is indivisible, and therefore immaterial; and 
thus, that the creation of every human soul cannot be accounted 
for, except as the direct act of Omnipotence. 

All events in the material universe evince the being of a God, 
— It is but a short step, then, to take in the extension of this 
argument, to say, that all events whatever in the material uni- 
verse, except those which are caused directly by human will and 
power, are in truth the doings of the Infinite One. Hitherto, 
this doctrine of immediate Divine agency has been considered 
only in its place with other theories of causation, as the most 
plausible, if not the only possible, explanation of the phenom- 
ena of nature. We are now to consider whether the evidence 
on which it rests is not so strong, that it may well be classed 
with other proofs of the being of a God, and in one respect, 
indeed, be viewed as more satisfactory than any other, as it is 
the only one from which we infer directly his present existence. 
The argument, both from creation and design, proves imme- 
diately that he was ; here we find direct evidence that he is. 
The phenomena of nature, so far as they show action or change, 
from the breaking of a bubble on the stream, up to the swift 
flight of the celestial orbs in their appointed paths, do not 
merely prove, but directly manifest, his existence and his glory. 



148 THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY. 

Let me not be understood as depreciating the value of the other 
proofs, in order to rest the whole weight of the argument here. 
I mention the distinction only to characterize more definitely 
the nature of this mode of reasoning, and not to lessen the 
cogency of the other forms of proof. 

How we recognize God in nature. — We recognize the pres- 
ence of God in nature in precisely the same manner in which 
we come to know that any intelligent, though finite, being exists 
besides ourselves. The outward form surely is nothing; a 
statue or an automaton may be moulded into a perfect external 
likeness of a man. But the actions of the living man show 
that he is animated by a spirit kindred to our own, by some- 
thing distinct from the mere framework of bones and muscles 
which he inhabits, and which we distinguish as clearly from the 
person within as we do our own bodies from ourselves. / am 
conscious of power dependent on my will, and I perceive the 
effects produced on matter by the exertion of that will ; I per- 
ceive, also, perfectly similar effects, which I can attribute only 
to my brother man, and I infer, therefore, that he exists, and 
that his will is equally active in producing those effects. I do 
not imagine that his limbs move themselves, but that he moves 
them ; I do not think that his eye turns towards me of its own 
accord with a glance of affection, or that his hand comes to 
meet mine in a friendly grasp from an energy that is inherent 
in that hand alone. In like manner, then, I say, if His sun 
rolls over my head and warms me, if His wind cools and re- 
freshes me, if His voice speaks to me, whether in the thunder 
at midnight, or in the whispers of the forest, or but in the rust- 
ling of a leaf, if His seasons still come round to me in their 
grateful vicissitude, and wherever I look in outward nature, I 
behold constant action, change, and joy, I do not suppose that 
brute and senseless matter causes all this by its inherent power, 
whether original or derived, but that the spirit, the Person 
within, controls, vivifies, and produces all. 

" These, as they change, Almighty Father, these 
Are hut the varied God. The rolling year 
Is full of thee 



THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY. 149 

But wandering oft, with brute, unconscious gaze, 
Man marks not thee, marks not the mighty hand 
That, ever busy, wheels the silent spheres." 

Do not say, that this is mere poetical enthusiasm, or devo- 
;ion, but not truth ; it is the highest form of poetry, precisely 
because it is the literal truth. It is a conclusion founded on 
:he most accurate researches of science, no less than on the 
nstinctive promptings of our human nature, and on the aspi- 
rations of the religious sentiment within us ; it is alike the doc- 
Tine of the intelligent mind and the dictate of the upright 
leart. We know not of any direct agency, we find no proof 
)f any active power, but that which is the attribute of person- 
ility, which is directed by will, and witnessed by consciousness. 
External nature, when questioned as to the reality of power 
mginating in itself, or inherited in its own right, hears not and 
mswers not ; no efficient cause, that is, no cause at all, in the 
)roper signification of the word, has ever been discovered in it. 
Whence come, then, its countless changes, its incessant activity 
ind life ? It is no answer to this question to say, that events 
constantly succeed each other in regular sequence, or even to 
*ive a name to that order, and call it law, or physical cause. 
STou cannot believe, you cannot even imagine, that any one of 
hese events takes place without a real cause, an efficient energy, 
ivithout which it were not. If matter be considered entirely 
ipart from mind, it is dead, formless, and motionless ; no winds 
igitate the surface of a chaotic ocean, no tides heave its 
waters, no waves break upon its silent shores. No eye can 
penetrate 

" The secrets of the hoary deep, a dark 
Illimitable ocean, without bound, 
Without dimension, where length, breadth, and height, 
And time and place, are lost ; where eldest Night 
And Chaos, ancestors of Nature, hold 

Eternal empire In this wild abyss, 

The womb of Nature, and perhaps her grave, 
Is neither sea, nor shore, nor air, nor fire, 
But all these in their pregnant causes mixed 
Confus'dly." 

13* 



150 THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY. 

Milton's conception of inorganic matter left to itself, without 
an indwelling soul, is not merely more poetical, but more philo- 
sophical and just, than the scientific romance, now generally- 
repudiated by all rational inquirers, which represents it as nec- 
essarily imbued with the seminal principles of organization and 
life, and waking up by its own force from eternal quietude to 
eternal motion. 

But I need not here renew the argument, already considered 
at sufficient length for our purposes, in favor of attributing all 
the active phenomena of nature directly to the omnipresence and 
omnipotence of God. A few considerations, which tend rather 
to illustrate than to prove the doctrine, and to account for the 
general reception of the popular fallacy which ascribes efficient 
causation to matter, will close the review of this branch of the 
subject. 

This reasoning applied to the phenomena of gravitation. — Of 
all the classes into which the motions and changes of material 
objects are divided, with reference to their general similarity, 
and hence to a supposed unity of cause, the most comprehen- 
sive and important are those of gravitation and of life^ — the 
latter term being understood, as in the vegetable kingdom, to 
signify merely the law of formation and growth, without sup- 
posing that any inherent principle exists in the plant distinct 
from its organic arrangement. As to the former class, the fact 
that all particles of matter constantly tend towards each other is 
the great conservative or sustaining principle of the mate- 
rial universe. Though often suspended or overbalanced by a 
stronger agency, as in all cases of life, the instances of it falling 
under our immediate observation are still so numerous, that we 
suppose there is no mystery in it. A weight that is no longer 
supported falls to the ground ; and this phenomenon, from the 
frequency of its occurrence, excites no wonder. If it ever oc- 
curs to us to ask after its cause, we are contented with the 
answer, that it is probably the same cause which makes other 
weiglvts fall under similar circumstances, though this certainly 
is no answer at all to the main question. That this gravity, or 
tendency to fall, is no primary quality of the substance itself, 



THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY. 151 

necessarily entering into our conception of it, as its extension 
does, is evident enough from the fact, that before any observa- 
tion or experience of motion from gravitation, we should no 
more expect the body to fall downwards than upwards, like a 
balloon, or side wise, like a bird. The vicinity of the body to 
the earth is now known not to be the characteristic feature of 
the phenomenon, as gravity is found to be the law of the mate- 
rial universe. 

Consider, then, one of the great orbs which hang suspended 
in void space, isolated by millions of miles in every direction 
from other objects, and in reference to the motion of which, 
therefore, the words upwards and downwards hardly seem to 
have any meaning. Why should this body fall towards another 
orb which is more than ninety millions of miles off, in prefei- 
ence to moving in any other direction ? You will doubtless say, 
that it is the attraction of the sun, which draws it. But exam- 
ine carefully, I pray you, whether this answer be in truth the 
assignment of a cause, or merely another expression, an expres- 
sion in different words, of the fact that the body does tend to 
move towards the sun, which is the phenomenon itself that we 
seek to account for. No axiom seems more self-evident than 
the old adage, that nothing can act but where it is ; or if you 
hesitate to accept this maxim in all its generality, you will 
surely admit that brute matter — a collection of extended, im- 
penetrable, and insensate particles — cannot act where it is not. 
It is a sufficiently violent hypothesis, to imagine that it can 
really act at all, or have any real force even within its own 
limits. But that it can exert any influence beyond these limits, 
is demonstrably absurd ; for action is a state of being, and that 
a body should act where it is not, is therefore equivalent to say- 
ing that it is possible for the same thing to be and not to be at the 
same moment, which is a contradiction. How, then, can the 
sun act upon a body which is eighteen hundred millions of 
miles off, which is the distance of Uranus, to say nothing of the 
newly discovered planet, which is nearly twice as far, this im- 
mense intervening space being entirely void ? I say, then, the 
supposition, that the sun, or any other material substance, 



152 THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY. 

really acts on another body, at a distance from it, is not merely 
extravagant, it is inconceivable ; and as the point of greater or 
less distance is really of no importance, except to aid us in con- 
ceiving the question distinctly, the falling of a stone to the 
ground, either by its own inherent power, or by that of the 
earth, is equally inconceivable. 

But along with gravity, another property is attributed to 
brute matter ; namely, that when once set in motion, it tends to 
move onwards in a straight line, with a uniform velocity, for 
ever. The hypothesis here is of the same character, and quite 
as extravagant, as in the former case ; but no matter ; let us, 
for the present, take it for granted. The planets, and all the 
other heavenly bodies, do not move in straight lines, but in 
curves ; and the mathematician will therefore tell you, that at 
every instant they are deflected, or turned aside from their 
proper course, by some agency foreign to themselves, which 
operates on them uniformly, with a constant force, tending 
towards a fixed point, thus keeping them within their appointed 
bounds. What is this agency ? Or rather, whose is it, but His 
" who spake the word, and they were made ? who commanded, 
and they were created ? who hath made them fast for ever and 
for ever, and hath given them a law which shall not be bro- 
ken?" 

The purpose of the astronomer's calculations. — This view 
does not conflict with a just conception of the manner in which 
mathematical reasoning is applied to matters of fact, but tends 
rather to elucidate and confirm it. The real object of the 
astronomer's calculations is to express the law, that is, the uni- 
formity, of the motions of the heavenly bodies, with little regard 
to any theory as to the origin or cause of those motions. The 
motion alone is mensurable, depending on the relations of space 
and time ; and therefore it alone is calculable ; the cause of it 
cannot be measured, for it cannot even be perceived. The math- 
ematician, indeed, for the sake of clearness, begins with certain 
arbitrary hypotheses as to the origin and nature of the phenom- 
ena ; but his calculations do not rest upon the truth in fact of 
those hypotheses, but only on the phenomena themselves, which 



THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY. 153 

he supposes to result from them. These hypotheses are not the 
actual structure, the foundations and walls, of his building, but 
the temporary scaffolding by the aid of which he erects those 
walls. They form the theory which enables him to express in 
mathematical language the facts or actual phenomena, — to 
recur to the preceding metaphor, the separate stones of which 
the walls are composed ; and there may be several theories, 
directly conflicting with each other, which will answer this pur- 
pose equally well. 

Thus, nearly all the phenomena of light are equally explicable 
on the theory either of emission or of undulation ; from which- 
ever of these two hypotheses the mathematician starts, the re- 
sults of his calculations agree equally well with the observed 
phenomena ; and yet, be it observed, the two hypotheses differ 
fundamentally, radically, from each other; they are contradic- 
tory. But as they are used only for a temporary purpose, just 
like the abstractions and postulates which constitute the first 
principles of pure mathematical science itself, the correctness of 
the result in nowise depends on their reality, their truth or 
falsity. They are mere scaffolding. Hence it was, that, until 
some crucial experiments were recently devised, which really 
determined that the undulatory theory was more satisfactory, or 
came nearer to the truth, than that of emissions, it was actually 
proposed as one reason for preferring this hypothesis to its rival, 
that it was more convenient for calculation ; — it was a handier 
tool to work with. 

What are forces in physical science. — We now see the rea- 
son why there is so much talk about various forces in physical 
science, especially in mechanics, when the mathematician seeks 
to express the facts in his own language. An objector to my 
argument might ask, How is it that you say there is no real 
power or force discoverable in the material universe as such, 
when a Laplace or a Bowditch, who deals with the most rigor- 
ous and accurate of all sciences, is constantly speaking of a 
great number of forces, and clearly distinguishes them from 
each other, and measures with the nicety of a hair's breadth 
their respective results ? I answer, what the physical inquirer 



154 THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY. 

calls force, is merely a mathematical expression for the law, or 
order, with which certain observed results of a supposed force 
succeed each other. The calculation actually represents those 
phenomena, their time, character, and sequence, — and nothing 
else ; as is seen at the close of the process, when the calculated 
results are tested by comparison with the last-observed phe- 
nomena. The calculator, in the midst of the process, often 
supposes several forces, recognized by him at the time to be 
fictitious or imaginary, for the mere purpose of facilitating his 
labor.* A body moving along the diagonal of a parallelogram 



* Newton's theory is not an empirical law, but a hypothetical one. He 
does not say, that an attractive force between the particles of matter ac- 
tually exists, but only that all bodies move or rest as if such a force existed. 
In respect to the solar system, it would be an equally correct statement of 
his doctrine to say, that the motions of the planets relative to the sun and 
each other, and of all satellites relative to their primaries, are such as 
(/"these bodies were bound to each other by elastic material ties, the strength 
of which varies directly as the masses of the bodies which they connect, and 
inversely as the squares of their own length. Newton no more believed in 
the actual existence of an attractive force, than in the actual existence of 
such elastic bands. 

I have already shown, that mathematical science can offer no proof what- 
ever of a physical fact ; it can prove nothing but abstract propositions. 
"When applied, in the Mixed Sciences, it simply enables us to make a more 
strict and exact comparison, than would otherwise be possible, of the re- 
sults of theory with the facts of nature. The only test of any hypothesis 
respecting the relations of certain phenomena to each other, is observation 
and experiment; and a competent knowledge of mathematics will enable 
us to apply tins test with the utmost precision. With it, we can calculate, 
to a hair's breadth, the necessary results according to theory ; and then, 
with the immense improvements of modern times in the instruments of 
observation, we can determine with equal accuracy the character and lim- 
its of the phenomenon. The astronomer, in his observatory, can deter- 
mine the time at which the occultation did take place, within the tenth 
part of a second ; and the mathematician, in the room below, can fix the 
time when, according to theory, it ought to take place, within the hundredth 
part of a second. The nice coincidence thus made out affects us with 
wonder, and seems to common minds a mathematical, and therefore in- 
controvertible, proof of the truth of the theory. But the coincidence itself 
can be made out, in a rough way, with the naked eye as the only means 
of observation, and by a train of reasoning from the theory so consequent 



THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY. 155 

is really propelled by a single force, as when moving over any 
other straight line ; but it is often convenient to suppose it im- 
pelled at the same instant by two forces, corresponding in direc- 
tion and intensity to two adjacent sides of the figure. 

The Ptolemaic system of astronomy. — My next illustration, 
being taken from astronomy, comes more nearly home to our 
leading subject. It is hardly possible to conceive of two theo- 
ries of the motions of the heavenly bodies, which should differ 
from each other more widely than do those of Hipparchus and 
Copernicus. The complex and intricate system of the former 
has become, though unjustly, the derision of modern science ; 
Milton ridiculed it long ago, in the counsel which he makes 
Raphael give to Adam, not to seek too eagerly to pry into those 
secrets of the heavens which " the great Architect did wisely to 
conceal : " — 

" He his fabric of the heavens 
Hath left to their disputes, perhaps to move 
His laughter at their quaint opinions wide 
Hereafter, when they come to model heaven, 
And calculate the stars ; how they will wield 
The mighty frame, how build, unbuild, contrive, 
To save appearances ; how gird the sphere 
With centric and eccentric scribbled o'er, 
Cycle and epicycle, orb in orb." 

The same complex system, when explained to Alphonso, king 
of Castile, gave rise to his noted remark, " that if God had con- 
sulted him at the creation, the universe should have been on a 
better and simpler plan." Now the truth is, that this compli- 
cated and fantastic theory of the heavens, with its operose con- 
trivances of eccentric wheels, and circles riding upon circles, 
and which, in. point of fact, is false from beginning to end, is 



and direct, that a mind of great analytical power could follow it without 
the use of one mathematical symbol. And the coincidence itself, whether 
roughly or nicely determined, affords just as much proof of the theory, as 
would be gained in favor of any hypothesis as to the manner in which my 
neighbor's house caught fire, by showing, experimentally, that my own 
house might be so fired under precisely similar circumstances. 



156 THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY. 

just as correct a bast's for astronomical calculations as the 
simpler, more beautiful, and more truthful system of Coperni- 
cus. The language of Mr. Whewell, whose authority on a 
point like this no one will dispute, is, "Asa system of calcula- 
tion, [it] is not only good, but in many cases no better has yet 
been discovered." The Hipparchian or Ptolemaic theory repre- 
sents the apparent motions of the heavenly bodies as actual 
motions ; the Copernican deduces these apparent motions from 
a totally different system of revolutions, which it considers as 
the real one. Both systems are true or correct in this, — that 
they represent those apparent motions rightly ; and this is all that 
is needed for the mathematician's purposes, all that the calcu- 
lator wants in order to predict what will be the aspect of the 
heavens, or the exact position of a particular body, at some 
future time. 

Astronomical theories are mere geometrical conceptions. — 
The office of theory, then, in physical science, is not to explain 
the cause or the origin of phenomena, but simply to represent 
with precision the phenomena themselves, and the order in 
which they succeed each other. In order to do this with clear- 
ness and simplicity, the theorist feigns certain causes, operating 
in an imaginary way, and thus gives unity to the phenomena by 
" making believe " that they all proceed from one source, the 
internal constitution of which is such that it can produce just 
these phenomena 'as they have been observed, and no ether. 
Ptolemy had a correct notion of the Hipparchian theory in this 
respect ; for although his predecessors and many of his disciples 
taught that the celestial spheres were real solid bodies, " they 
are spoken of by him as imaginary ; and it is clear," says Mr. 
Whewell, " from his proof of the identity of the results of the 
hypothesis of an eccentric and an epicycle, that they are in- 
tended to pass for no more than geometrical conceptions, in 
which view they are true representations of the apparent mo- 
tions." Now the several forces, by which, in the language of 
modern mathematicians, the heavenly bodies are represented as 
moved and directed, are just such " geometrical conceptions " 
as those of an eccentric and epicycle ; rightly speaking, they are 



THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY. 157 

not even conceived to be realities, but only convenient fictions, 
just like the great circles, — the equator, the ecliptic, the merid- 
ians, etc., — which not even the school-boy supposes to be real 
and material arches over and around our universe. Newton 
found that the elliptical motions of the planets could not be 
mathematically represented by the hypothesis of one mechanical 
force, operating on them constantly and uniformly ; and so he 
imagined two forces, one being that of gravitation, which tends 
constantly towards the sun, and another by which they tend to 
fly off at a tangent from their orbits ; or the latter may be 
considered rather as the result of the primitive projectile force, 
with which the planets were originally launched in space. From 
these convenient fictions, he found he could deduce mathemati- 
cally their true motions. It is possible, though certainly not 
probable, that some mathematical theory will hereafter be in- 
vented, which will account for the motions of the system on the 
hypothesis of a single force ; if so, it will immediately take the 
place of the present theory, on account, not of its superior 
truth, but of its greater simplicity.* 

Gravity is only a hypothetical force. — What shall we say, 
then, of a hypothetical history of the universe, which pretends 
to explain both the genesis and the progress of all material 
worlds by the aid only of this imaginary force, this mathemati- 
cal fiction ? What but this, — that it affords a striking proof of 
the manner in which language reacts on the ideas or opinions 
that it is intended to express, and thus leads men to talk non- 

* I am able to quote the admission of M. Comte himself, a mathe- 
matician who will not be accused of any religious tendencies, that this 
remark is well founded. " In my dread of our resting in notions of any 
thing absolute, I would venture to say, that I can conceive of such a thing 
as even our theory of gravitation being hereafter superseded. I do not 
think it probable ; and the fact will ever remain, that it answers com- 
pletely to our present needs. It sustains us, up to the last point of pre- 
cision that we can attain. If a future generation should reach a greater, 
and feel, in consequence, a need to construct a new law of gravitation, it 
will be as true as it now is, that the Newtonian theory is, in the midst of 
inevitable variations, stable enough to give steadiness and confidence to 
our understandings." — Martineau's trans, of Comte' s Phil. Vol. I. p. 184. 

14 



158 THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY. 

sense without knowing it ? To say that gravitation not only 
accounts for the present motions of the heavenly bodies, but 
that, on an easily conceivable theory, it may be made to explain 
the origin of these motions, and their several stages of progress, 
so to speak, to their present state or law, is the same thing as 
to say, that I can frame a hypothetical history of an imaginary 
universe, all the phenomena of which, and all the supposed 
changes in the laiv, or mode of succession, of those phenomena, 
can be calculated on the same mathematical principles ; that is, 
by the aid of the same postulates, abstractions, and fictions, 
through which the mathematician deduces by exact computation 
the future positions of the real heavenly bodies from their past 
states and revolutions ; or in other words, that mathematical 
science is a very general organon of calculation, which enables 
us to compute, not only the actual motions and changes of the 
actual universe, but the imaginary states and changes of a great 
number of fictitious, but easily conceivable worlds. This I con- 
ceive to be the exact meaning of Herschel's nebular hypothesis, 
and Laplace's theory of the genesis of our system by planets 
peeled off from the sun. Very different, and far more philo- 
sophical, was the view of gravitation which was taken by that 
great mind which first conceived the theory, and verified it by 
application. " That gravity," says Sir Isaac Newton, " should 
be innate, inherent, and essential to matter, so that one body 
may act upon another at a distance through a vacuum, without 
the mediation of any thing else, by and through which their 
action and force may be conveyed from one to another, is to me 
so great an absurdity, that I believe no man, who has in philo- 
sophical matters a competent faculty of thinking, can ever fall 
into it. (Gravity must be caused by an agent acting constantly 
according to certain laws." 

Gravity is the basis of mechanical theories of the universe. — ■ 
I have detained you too long, perhaps, with speculations respect- 
ing the true nature of the chief element in mechanical and 
astronomical calculations. But the popular conception of grav- 
ity seems to me so wholly unlike the just and philosophical view 
of it, and the part assigned to it in atheistic schemes of cos- 



THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY. 159 

mogony is so prominent, and at the same time, when rightly 
considered, so unintelligible, that it was worth while making 
some attempt to rise to a clear comprehension of the subject. 
If I have at all succeeded in this explanation, it is evident that, 
in regard to efficient causation, or the great motive power of the 
universe, the theory of gravitation, with all the calculations and 
hypotheses that are founded on it, leaves us precisely where it 
found us; it accounts for nothing, it explains the origin of 
nothing ; it is a simple statement, in a form convenient for 
scientific purposes, of the order and manner in which certain 
phenomena recur, leaving us to find a cause for those phenom- 
ena where we may. The conclusion remains as before, that this 
cause can be nothing but personal agency, which is to us the 
only known source of power, the only CEdipus that can explain 
the riddle of that great Sphinx, the universe. Yet the phe- 
nomena ranged under this class are so clearly distinguishable 
from all others, they are so simple and so frequent in their 
recurrence, that they suggest very forcibly the action of a 
machine of man's device ; and for this reason, they have always 
been the chief support of all mechanical theories of causation. 
Yet a moment's reflection might satisfy us, that as in a machine, 
though human ingenuity devised it, it is not human power which 
keeps it in action, but rather (to use the common metaphor) the 
powers of nature, such as the weight of falling water, the elas- 
ticity of steel, or the expansive action of steam, — powers 
which we economize, direct, and apply to use, but do not 
create, — so these powers of nature themselves are not the 
source of the energy or true cause, but only the mode in which 
it is applied. 

Tendency of mechanical caladations. — But as these phe- 
nomena suggest so strongly the action of a machine, they have 
been the chief support of the doctrine, that active power is in 
some way inherent in matter ; the theory of gravitation has been 
the starting-point and the strong-hold for all mechanical theories 
of the universe. If the often quoted remark, that " the undevout 
astronomer is mad," be understood to mean only that astronomy 
is better calculated than any other branch of physical science to 



160 THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY. 

lead to correct views of the providence of God, I may be per- 
mitted to doubt its correctness. The vastness of the objects 
contemplated, and the sublimity of the phenomena, tend forcibly, 
it is true, to lead the partially instructed mind from the finite up 
to the infinite ; but one who is conversant with the details of 
the science is apt to be blinded by their simplicity and uniform- 
ity, to be elated by his seemingly entire knowledge of them, 
and his power of predicting their recurrence, till he comes to 
imagine, that vast and magnificent as creation is, it is but a 
simple affair after all, — that the theory of gravitation unlocks 
the whole mystery of it, and places the secret, not only of the 
continuance of the system, but of its origin and growth, com- 
pletely within the grasp of the human intellect. Newton was a 
believer, as minds of the highest order always will be; but 
Laplace, a man of great talent rather than original genius, im- 
mersed all his life in mathematical calculations, and inordinately 
vain of his success with them, doubted or denied ; and the very 
title of his great work, the Mecanique Celeste, suggests the cause 
of his doubts. He thought he had reduced nature to a vast 
piece of mechanism, and that he could calculate to a fraction the 
strength of all its parts, and the intensity and mode of action of 
all its motive forces.* His accurate knowledge of the details of 

* Since the passage in the text was written, Sir "William Hamilton has 
made a similar observation. In the last edition of his "Discussions," (page 
310,) he says, "It has been poetically said, 'an undevout astronomer is 
mad/ This, however, if poetical, is not true. For if, as has been quaintly 
but significantly expressed, 'Nature is a Hebrew word written with mere 
consonants, to which philosophy must place the points/ certainly the ' mechan- 
ism of the heavens ' itself is not the grammar from which we can ever learn 
' to syllable the stars/ Historically, a larger proportion of astronomers 
have been religious skeptics, in the last and worst degree, than any other 
class even of mere physical observers/' 

He afterwards quotes, (page 312,) as an illustration, the following shal- 
low and impious remark from M. Comte, the most eminent infidel philos- 
opher among the mathematicians of the present day. " To those unfa- 
miliar with a study of the celestial bodies, Astronomy has still the character 
of being a science preeminently religious; as if the famous text, 'The 
Heavens declare the glory of God,' retained its old significance. But to 
minds familiar with true philosophical astronomy, the heavens declare no 



THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY. 161 

astronomical science, in which the universe is considered only 
as a great system of revolving orbs acting on each other, pre- 
vented him from taking comprehensive and philosophical views 
of it as a whole. 

Limited aims of astronomical science. — One reflection alone 
might have convinced him of the hollowness and vanity of his 
pretensions. Astronomy is a very finished science only because 
it is very limited in its objects. It contemplates nothing but 
motions and positions. Of the physical constitution even of the 
other bodies in our own solar system we are profoundly igno- 
rant ; we form a few faint guesses about the irregularities on the 
surface of the moon, which is the nearest of them, and here we 
stop. The stellar universe is to us only a grouping of points 
of light, seen from an immeasurable distance, in which a few 
slight changes of relative position have but recently been dis- 
covered. Of the external and internal economy of these orbs, 
of the forms which organized matter there assumes, the modes 
in which active energy develops itself, and the living races, if 
any, which tenant them, we are so far from knowing any thing, 
that we do not pretend even to study them. To explain the 
action of the planets and stars themselves, merely as it is inves- 
tigated by the astronomer and the mathematician, — that is, to 



other glory than that of Hipparchus, of Kepler, of Newton, — in a word, 
of all those who have aided in establishing their laws." 

To this poor sophistry, it is certainly competent for us to reply, as we 
have done in another place, that the grandeur of astronomical science, after 
all, depends far more on the sublimity and perfectness of the objects of 
study, than on the ability and success with which they have been studied. 
The wonder is, not so much that man should be able to foresee the return 
of an eclipse, even to a second of time, as that the arrangement of the vast 
system of worlds should be so perfect, and their mutual action and de- 
pendence so accurately balanced, that the two bodies should return from 
their vast journey at the precise moment, and to the previously defined 
point in the heavens. M. Comte would have us believe, that the ingenuity 
of a person who should ascertain, after long study, that the movement of 
the hands on the face of a clock correctly indicated the hour of the day, 
was greater than that of the artisan who invented and constructed the in- 
strument. 

14* 



162 THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OP THE DEITY. 

expound a theory of their relative motions and positions, — is to 
lay open but an infinitesimal part of the secrets of the celestial 
universe, and this the simplest and most conceivable part. Our 
idea of the mechanism of the heavens comes almost immeasura- 
bly short of the truth of things ; and hence our notion of efficient 
cause, or active power, so far as it is derived only from this 
mechanism, or applied only to an explanation of it, is imperfect 
and vain. Notwithstanding the boasted triumphs of science in 
this department, the philosophical observer, seeing how vastly 
the subject still transcends the human intellect, instead of in- 
dulging the vanity of Laplace, will say rather, with the Psalmist 
of old: — "When I consider the heavens, the work of Thy 
fingers, and the moon and stars which Thou hast ordained, 
what is man that Thou art mindful of him, and the son of man 
that Thou visitest him ? " 

The same reasoning applied to the phenomena of life. — 
We gain a clearer idea of the limitation of our knowledge in 
this respect, when we consider the second class of phenomena 
to which I proposed to direct your attention, — those, namely, 
which are ascribed to life. Here, our observation is at once 
restricted to this earth ; and the lessons which it teaches us, if 
deeply pondered, seem even more profound and impressive than 
those offered by the vast scale on which material attraction acts. 
Gravitation is the simplest and most regular of all the modes in 
which active power develops itself, while life is the most com- 
plex and varied. The two classes of phenomena ranged under 
these heads are thus taken from opposite ends of the scale ; 
which is the reason why I have chosen them to illustrate the 
true doctrine of causation, instead of the intermediate classes, 
such as chemical affinity, and the imponderable agents, electricity, 
heat, and magnetism. Whatever is established as to the nature 
of the power exerted in these two classes, will very readily be 
admitted of all the ranks and divisions which lie between them. 
My present point is this, — that if the simple, regular, and fre- 
quently recurrent phenomena of gravitation cannot be explained 
on the hypothesis, that the universe is a machine, a clock that 
was wound up at creation, and which never runs down, then, 



THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY. 163 

for a still stronger reason, the myriad forms of life, the infinitely 
diversified modes in which creative and sustaining energy here 
shows itself, are not mechanical, but personal and Divine. If 
the hypothesis, that brute matter is necessarily endowed with a 
native and inherent activity, is utterly insufficient to explain 
even the simple fact, that all particles of that matter tend to 
move towards each other, and that aggregations of those par- 
ticles into vast orbs uniformly circle round each other at im- 
mense distances with ceaseless motion, then, surely, the same 
hypothesis will not account for the mystery of life, as shown by 
the infinitely diversified motions of the motes which people a 
sunbeam, or of the animalcules which find an ocean in a drop 
of water, or of the vegetative forms, which cover the earth's 
surface with beauty, and minister to the wants of man, from the 
tiniest flower up to the grandeur and endurance of the firm-set 
oak. 

Life is not mechanism. — The phenomena of life are not 
mechanical ; the incessant motion, the countless changes, the 
perpetual succession of birth, growth, decay, and dissolution, 
which it exhibits, are events to be accounted for ; they are 
effects, and the only sufficient, or even conceivable, cause to 
which they can be assigned, is the immediate action of an ever- 
present and omnipotent God. This is the argument, and you 
will observe that it is entirely distinct from the reasoning from 
design, or final cause. This second form of proof will come up 
afterwards ; but for the present, I put it entirely aside. I do 
not now argue from the peculiarities of certain effects, that they 
must have been intended or purposed ; but from the fact that 
there are effects, which must have a cause. I do not invite 
you to examine the artistic, the admirable internal structure of 
some form of vegetable or animal life, as a proof that intelli- 
gence, foresight, and benevolence were exerted in producing it ; 
but merely to remember that this individual structure did begin 
to be ; that its existence dates, perhaps, only from yesterday, or 
from the last hour ; that there is a constant motion and change 
among its constituent parts ; and these various beginnings and 
movements must be attributed to some efficient cause, which 



164 THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OP THE DEITY. 

cannot be found in the mere insensate atoms of which the plant 
or animal is made up, but must be sought for in spirit, or per- 
son, the only known source of power. That the plant began to 
exist, and that it grows, are phenomena to be accounted for in 
some way, just as much as the curious internal arrangement or 
organization of that plant. 

Among the forms of mere organic life, the birth, develop- 
ment, and subsequent changes of which are to be accounted for 
by a cause out of themselves, I rank the material framework 
of my own body, and those merely vital movements in it which 
are not dependent on my own will, and which, consequently, as 
has been already proved, are truly foreign to myself. Here, 
then, we bring the only two kinds of efficient or personal power 
with which we are acquainted, — namely, the human and the 
Divine, — as it were, into close juxtaposition and virtual coopera- 
tion ; and thus the point of the argument appears more clearly. 
The voluntary movement of my arm and hand I know to be 
dependent on myself ; I am conscious of willing the movement, 
and am conscious of making an effort, or exerting my own 
power, to that end. It is even inconceivable to me, that, within 
the ordinary sphere of my action, they should move without my 
agency, or, in other words, should move themselves. Then I 
say, that the other motions in that arm and hand, which are not- 
voluntary, not mine, such as the circulation of the' blood, the ex- 
cretions of the skin, the constant flux and change of all the 
material particles in them, must also be attributed to a cause 
out of themselves, to a personal agency not inherent in the 
arm and hand. Even the skeptic will allow me to say, that the 
hand does not move itself, but that I move it ; then it seems to 
me the conclusion is inevitable, that the blood does not move 
itself, and that no physical cause, or mere organization, has any 
thing to*do with its motion, except that it is so constituted as not 
to interfere with it ; but in this case, no less than in that of the 
planets circling round the sun, the mover is Divine. 

Why the phenomena of life appear mysterious. — Of all the 
mysteries with which we are surrounded, life is thought to be 
the most inscrutable. The reason of this is, that it cannot even 



THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY. 165 

be conceived of as mere mechanism ; it refuses to be subject to 
the ordinary chemical affinities, to computation and law. There 
is order and uniformity in its manifestations, but it is an order 
of its own, and one which appears in the midst of infinite variety. 
The motions of fluids under its influence refuse to submit to the 
dynamic principles which govern the movements of inorganic 
substances ; the processes which are carried on within its sphere 
cannot be imitated by the subtlest refinements of chemistry. 
Endeavor to measure and calculate its action by the aid of 
what are considered as known laws, and a residuum is always 
left, which must be attributed to a vital force, a wholly peculiar 
physical cause, of which we know nothing. In the functions of 
the living body, it may be, that the ordinary laws of chemistrj 
are preserved, and that the elements of carbon, oxygen, hydro- 
gen, and nitrogen combine and separate according to their 
ordinary affinities, and in no unusual proportions ; though this 
point does not seem to be fully proved. But after death, at any 
rate, quite a different set of chemical laws come into play, and 
produce a result which is the very opposite of that before 
effected. There is no longer any unanimity or cooperation ; 
instead of sustaining or building up the animal tissues, the 
affinities now in operation tear down, destroy, and resolve 
them into their ultimate elements, — each part following out its 
own law of destruction or resolution, irrespectively of the others. 
The definitions of life which have been given by the most 
eminent physiologists, show very clearly their conviction, that 
the vital processes are neither chemical nor mechanical, but that 
the principle on which they depend is a mystery inscrutable by 
the human intellect. Thus, life has been defined by Stahl to be 
" the condition by which a body resists a natural tendency to 
chemical changes, such as putrefaction." Humboldt says, that 
living bodies are "those which, notwithstanding the constant 
operation of causes tending to change their form, are hindered 
by a certain intvard power from undergoing such change." The 
definition of Kant, who looked at the subject more as a meta- 
physician than a physiologist, is in truth no definition at all ; he 
says, that " life is an internal faculty, producing change, motion, 



166 THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY. 

and action." Bichat's definition, that " life is the sum of the 
functions by which death is resisted," only introduces a correla- 
tive mystery into the subject ; and as the latter is a negative 
idea, it would be more correct, as Mr. Whewell suggests, to 
define death with reference to life, as its cessation, or natural 
limit. Schmid defines life to be " the activity of matter, accord- 
ing to laws of organization ; " and an organized body is said by 
Kant to be one in which " all the parts are mutually ends and 
means." * Organization, then, is properly the condition or pre- 
requisite of activity; it is the machine without the moving 
power. Life is something — we know not what — which keeps 

* " It will be observed, tbat we do not content ourselves with saying, 
that, in such a whole, all the parts are mutually dependent. This might be 
true even of a mechanical structure ; it would be easy to imagine a frame- 
work in which each part should be necessary to the support of each of the 
others ; for example, an arch of several stones. But in such a structure, 
the parts have no properties which they derive from the wbole. They are 
beams or stones when separate ; they are no more when joined. But the 
same is not the case in an organized whole. The limb of an animal, 
separated from the body, loses the properties of a limb, and soon ceases 
to retain even its form. 

" Nor do we content ourselves with saying that the parts are mutually 
causes and effects. This is the case in machinery. In a clock, the pendulum, 
by means of the escapement, causes the descent of the weight, the weight 
by the same escapement keeps up the motion of the pendulum. But 
things of this kind may happen by accident. Stones slide from a rock 
down the side of a hill, and cause it to be smooth ; the smoothness of the 
slope causes stones still to slide. Yet no one would call such a slide an 
organized system. The system is organized, when the effects which take 
place among the parts are essential to our conception of the whole ; when the 
whole would not be a whole, nor the parts, parts, except these effects were 
produced ; when the effects not only happen in fact, but are included in 
the idea of the object; when they are not only seen, but foreseen; not 
only expected, but intended ; in short, when, instead of being causes and 
effects, they are ends and means, as they are termed in [Kant's] definition. 

" Thus we necessarily include, in our Idea of Organization, the notion of 
an End, a Purpose, a Design ; or, to use another phrase which has been 
peculiarly appropriated in this case, a Final Cause. This idea of a Final 
Cause is an essential condition in order to the pursuing our researches 
respecting organized bodies." — Whewell's Phil, of the Ind. Sciences, 2d 
ed. Vol. I. p. 619. 



THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY. 167 

the machine in action, and at the same time preserves it from 
decay, to which it would otherwise be subject at every moment. 

Life, then, is not mere organization, though most materialists 
willingly confound the two things ; to hear them reason, one 
would almost suppose that there was no difference between a 
dead animal and a living one. Organization is subservient to 
life, ministers to it, manifests it, — supports it, if you please, — 
but does not constitute it. Life is something added to the or- 
ganic structure, a new power in action, — or rather, on the true 
theory, a new and wholly peculiar application of the same power, 
— not inherent in the parts, the material atoms, nor yet in the 
complex organism which is made up of those atoms ; not com- 
pounded of or resulting from the laws of action, or affinities, of 
the elements of the body, but controlling, overruling, and super- 
seding those affinities, which come into play again only when 
life departs. • 

Life overrides or suspends other laws of action. — In what- 
ever manner we contemplate the phenomena of life, the argu- 
ment seems to me conclusive in favor of the doctrine of immedi- 
ate Divine agency. If chemical action is mechanical or abso- 
lute, if chemical affinities are inherent powers, necessarily be- 
longing to the atoms in which they usually manifest themselves, 
how are they thus suspended for a season, or during the life of 
the animal, and then made again to operate after its death? 
Such intermittent action is not characteristic, is not even con- 
ceivable, of a primary and necessary quality, an inherent power ; 
we cannot, for instance, conceive of a material substance as ex- 
tended at one moment, and not extended the next, or of an atom 
as impenetrable now, and not impenetrable an instant after- 
wards ; (I refer now, of course, to absolute impenetrability, that 
quality which matter is conceived to possess of occupying space, 
and of excluding all other matter from the space so occupied.) 
And this suspension of the affinities of matter cannot be ac- 
counted for by the altered circumstances of the *case. An ani- 
mal, for example, is instantly killed by a blow on the head ; 
but this event does not alter the mutual position and relations 
to each other of the material particles which form one of its 



168 THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY. 

limbs; these remain undisturbed. Yet their action on each 
other instantly changes, from one that contributed to sustain and 
build up the organism, to another which carries it by a swift 
process to dissolution. It is no answer to this argument to re- 
mind me, as the chemist will do, of the allotropic states even of 
inorganic substances, in which the same bodies manifest differ- 
ent qualities at successive instants. This is but another instance 
of the same phenomenon, not an explanation of the phenomenon, 
or an assignment of its cause, which is admitted to be inscru- 
table. My point is, that necessary attributes, inherent powers, 
cannot be allotropic; if what you call the action of the particle 
changes, this is a proof that the particle is not acting, but is 
acted upon. Spinoza's doctrine teaches us, that invariability 
and uniformity are the characteristics of material and necessary 
action ; for change, choice, difference, we must go up to the free 
action of person or mind. The conclusion is inevitable, then, 
that these chemical affinities, so called, are the results of will 
and personal power. 

The results of mechanical action are perfectly uniform, — 
Again, these affinities, I say, cannot be necessary and mechan- 
ical in their operation, because the phenomena of life do not 
constantly recur upon the same uniform pattern ; they are not 
only intermittent, they are immeasurably diversified. The life 
of the organize-d mass is a free and independent power, as ap- 
pears from the infinite variety of forms that it assumes. The 
affinities, or whatever other powers we suppose to inhere in the 
particles by themselves, do not by their complication and mu- 
tual action make up the life, or give rise to the various motions 
of the organism, or create its numberless outward aspects. For 
the results of necessary and mechanical action are all alike ; 
either they are perfectly similar to each other, or they change 
by a fixed law either of deterioration or improvement ; while 
the effects of power controlled by freewill and witnessed by 
consciousness ate multiform, variety being the rule, and perfect 
resemblance the exception. This is easily illustrated by a 
comparison of human labor with that of a machine. Of any 
number of nails made by hand, no two are just alike, while the 



THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY. 169 

nail-machine strikes them out in perfect conformity to one pat- 
tern ; or to take another instance, no handwriting even ap- 
proaches the uniformity of the engraved or printed letters in 
many successive copies of the same words. The only difference 
perceivable in the former case is a regular and gradual one, as 
the machine or the types slowly wear out. Even these illus- 
trations do not give an adequate idea of the uniformity here in 
question, as the machine is always controlled or guided, to a 
certain extent, by human power, and is in itself but an applica- 
tion and direction of the powers of nature, so called, which are 
really personal and Divine. Active attributes, necessarily re- 
sulting from the essence or internal constitution of the thing, 
are as unchangeable and constant in their operation as the geo- 
metrical attributes of space, the immutable and everlasting 
relations which are studied by the mathematician ; and this is 
precisely the view of the universe, of natural events, which is 
taken by the logical necessarian, by Fichte and Spinoza. 

The results of life are infinitely varied. — Consider, then, the 
infinite variety of forms and aspects which living nature as- 
sumes, and explain these, if you can, on the hypothesis that the 
universe is a machine. Of the millions of leaves which make 
up the glorious mass of foliage on a large oak tree, it is said, I 
believe with truth, that no two can be found exactly alike in 
outward configuration.* Of all the faces in a large assemblage, 
or, it may be said, even in the population of a city or a country, 
not one is the exact counterpart of another. I need not multi- 

* " Leibnitz/' says De Quincey, " when walking in Kensington Gardens 
with the Princess of Wales, took occasion, from the beautiful scene about 
them, to explain in a lively way, and at the same time to illustrate and 
verify, this favorite thesis, [that amongst the familiar objects of our daily 
experience, there is no perfect identity.] Turning to a gentleman in at- 
tendance upon her Royal Highness, he challenged him to produce two 
leaves from any tree or shrub, which should be exact duplicates or fac-similes 
of each other in tbose lines which variegate the surface. The challengo 
was accepted ; but the result justified Leibnitz. It is,- in fact, upon this 
infinite variety, in the superficial lines of the human palm, that palmistry 
is grounded, (or the science of divination by the hieroglyphics written on 
each man's hand,) and has its prima fade justification." 

15 



170 THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY. 

ply these instances of the unbounded diversity of nature's opera- 
tions in life ; every one's memory will supply a sufficient num- 
ber of them for the purposes of this argument. The differences 
alluded to are not those merely which distinguish races, but 
those which mark out individuals, separating one generation 
from another, and giving a peculiar character to each of the 
offspring of common parents. If we should grant, then, that the 
simple and uniform effects that are ascribed to gravitation, or 
even to a more complex cause, chemical affinity, are mechanical, 
the theory of secondary or automatic causation wholly fails to 
account for the multifarious phenomena of life. Unity of prin- 
ciple pervading unmeasured and immeasurable variety, is the 
character of the physical universe ; the necessarian may dream 
that he can account for that unity, by reducing the All to one 
unchangeable substance ; but the variety is to him an inexpli- 
plicable mystery. 

Wherever we look in outward nature, then, we behold proofs 
of an ever-present and ever-active Deity. Diversity, change, 
motion, activity, all ceaseless and endless, show that power is 
in action ; and this power, commensurate with the extent and 
coeval with the duration of the universe, is that of the Infinite 
One. The sentiment which these phenomena inspire, harmo- 
nizes with the lesson which they teach to the intellect, and with 
the logical deductions of the understanding. As surely as our 
earth, with its sister orbs and companion systems, still rolls in its 
appointed path, as surely as seed-time and harvest, night and 
day, return, and life, in countless forms and untiring action, 
peoples every clod of earth and every drop of water, so surely 
God liveth* 



* Besides the doctrine maintained in this chapter, six different hypotheses 
have been propounded at various times, to account for the motions and 
other phenomena of the material universe. I borrow, with much abridg- 
ment and some addition, an account of them from Dugald Stewart. 

1. The first is that of materialism, according to which the phenomena of 
nature are the result of certain active powers necessarily inhei-ent in mat- 
ter. In its pure form, this is an atheistic hypothesis ; and, in fact, it was 
the earliest doctrine of atheism, having been taught by Democritus about 



THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY. 171 

450 b. c. It was also the leading feature of the Epicurean philosophy. 
The powers which are inherent in matter, and which have existed in it from 
all eternity, are enough, according to this theory, to account for all the 
phenomena that we witness. From the endless multiplicity of atoms, a 
fortuitous concourse of them, in an infinite series of years, may assume the 
appearance of regularity and adaptation; as the chance of order is at least 
one out of an infinite number of chances of disorder, and therefore must 
occur at least once during an eternity. The groundwork of this hypothesis 
is struck away by the proof which has been offered, that power, properly 
so called, cannot even be conceived of as an attribute of brute matter ; that 
gravity, in particular, cannot be predicated of matter except by an abuse 
of words, which confounds the mode of action with the cause of that actfon ; 
and that this universe, considered as an organic whole, and as abounding 
with organic life, is not of indefinite antiquity, but is clearly proved, by 
geological phenomena, to be of comparatively recent origin. 

2. The second hypothesis is theistic, but in nearly every other respect, 
it agrees with the preceding one, and it is open to the same objections. Its 
doctrine is, that the phenomena of nature result from certain active powers 
communicated to matter at its first formation. Except that this theory 
recognizes a creation and a Creator, it does not account for the phenom- 
ena any better than pure materialism ; since it is just as difficult to conceive 
of gravity as a property of matter, whether matter was first endowed with 
this property many ages ago, or always possessed it. It is inconceivable 
that matter should act upon matter which is millions of miles distant from 
it, whether this power of acting is inherent in it, or was first imparted to it 
at the creation ; in either case, we have to meet the difficulty — the contra- 
diction — that something should act where it is not; in other words, that it 
should be where it is not. 

3. The third hypothesis is the common one, which ascribes the phenom- 
ena of nature to certain general laws established by the Deity. We have 
sufficiently proved that this theory is founded upon a mere abuse of words, 
so that the proper objection to it is, not that it is false, but that it is mean- 
ingless. General laws are merely a classification and description of the 
phenomena which are to be accounted for ; they offer no explanation of 
these phenomena, and throw no light whatever upon their efficient causes. 
The very purpose of the hypotheses with which we are now concerned, is 
to account for efficient causation. 

4. A fourth supposition is that of Dr. Cudworth, who ascribes the phe- 
nomena of the material world to what he calls a plastic or formative nature, 
or (according to his own definition of it) to " a vital and spiritual, but unin- 
telligent and necessary agent, created by the Deity for the execution of his 
purposes." This mysterious and fanciful doctrine seems to be rather a 
play of the imagination than a product of the intellect. We can hardly 
believe that it was propounded seriously. Perceiving the absurdity of the 
hypothesis, that the Creator endowed brute matter with active properties, 



172 THE IMMEDIATE AGENCY OF THE DEITY. 

Dr. Cudworth preferred to imagine that He first animated it with an indis- 
tinct living principle, — a sort of half-life, — so that it became more plastic 
to His hands, and more obedient to His behest, than it would have been in 
its original inert and passive state. The supposition is an unnecessary 
one, as Omnipotence needs no such aid in executing its purposes ; and as 
it is defended by neither argument nor analogy, it may be rejected as a 
mere dream. 

5. Dissatisfied with all these doctrines, Lord Monboddo attempted to 
revive what he calls the ancient theory of mind. Every particle of matter he 
supposes to be animated with different minds. Thus, there is one, which 
he calls the elemental mind, that is the source of the cohesion of bodies ; 
another is the cause of their gravitation ; and so on. Even in the case of 
the motion that follows impulse, he holds that the impulse is only the occa- 
sion of the motion; the continuance of the motion is attributable to a mind 
excited by the impulse, because continued motion implies continued activ- 
ity. Thus, also, the planets are endowed with minds which guide and 
impel them in their revolutions round the sun; only these planetary minds 
are void of intelligence, being mere principles of activity. This theoiy is 
open to the same objection as the former one, that it is a mere dream, un- 
supported even by probability. But both are instructive as showing the 
difficulty of conceiving principles to be inherent in matter which would 
account for its phenomena ; the agency of mind must, somehow, be called 
in. 

6. The last supposition is that of the philosophers who maintain that the 
universe is a machine formed and put in motion by the Deity. In this 
hypothesis, Descartes and Leibnitz agreed, notwithstanding the wide diver- 
sity of their systems in other respects. But a machine needs a continuous 
motive power ; it needs the expansive force of steam, the weight of falling 
water, the elasticity of steel, or some other force ; and if this be intermitted, 
the action stops. A machine is not a contrivance for creating power, but 
only for using it, — for applying it in one direction or another, or to one or 
another purpose. Now, it has been shown that matter has no force of its 
own. "What, then, keeps the machine of the universe in action 1 It must 
be the continuous and immediate action of the Deity ; and this is the very 
theory of immediate divine agency which we advocate, except that wo 
throw away the idle and baseless hypothesis, that Omnipotence works 
through machinery, instead of accomplishing its purposes directly and at 



THE PHYSICAL UNIVERSE. 173 



CHAPTER VIII. 

INFERENCES FROM THE GENERAL CHARACTER OF THE PHE- 
NOMENA OF THE PHYSICAL UNIVERSE. 

Summary of the last chapter. — In the last chapter, the phe- 
nomena of the physical universe, so far as they show change, 
diversity, and activity, which are not attributable to human 
power and will, were held to prove the immediate and omni- 
present action of the Deity. The argument was, that these 
phenomena afford incontestable evidence of power exerted, or 
efficient causation, and there is no source of such power within 
our knowledge, and none, in fact, that is conceivable, except in 
personal agency ; and in this case, the power being commensu- 
rate with the extent and duration of all things, it must be as- 
cribed to the Infinite Creator. This reasoning was carried out 
in reference to two of the most comprehensive classes of such, 
events, — those, namely, which are ascribed to gravitation and 
to life ; the phenomena under the former head being the most 
simple, uniform, and frequent in their occurrence, while those 
coming under the latter are most complex, varied, and multiform ; 
so that any conclusion established respecting both these classes 
must hold true of all intermediate ones. 

In regard to the former, it was shown that what are called 
forces in mechanical science, are only metaphorical expressions 
for the mode or order in which certain events succeed each 
other, or are mere fictions for the convenience of the mathema- 
tician, like the abstractions and hypotheses with which the ge- 
ometer begins his work ; both attraction and the tangential force 
being, in fact, as imaginary as the eccentrics and epicycles of 
Hipparchus and Ptolemy. In regard to the latter, the phe- 
nomena of life, they were shown to be inexplicable and incon- 
ceivable as effects of mechanism, such effects being necessarily 
15* 



2-23. 



174 THE GENERAL CHARACTER 

uniform and perfectly similar to each other, or changing only 
by a regular law of deterioration or improvement ; while the 
numberless aspects, and infinite variations of the activity, of 
living things, point for their cause to the free volitions of a con- 
scious agent 

This form of argument for the being of a God, it was ob- 
served, though not so familiar to common minds as the proof 
from design, — for indeed, it is not fully stated in any work on 
Natural Theology with which I am acquainted, — is still legiti- 
mate and conclusive ; and it has this great advantage, that from 
it we infer immediately his present existence, instead of estab- 
lishing tins point by a subsequent process of reasoning. The 
conclusion to which it leads harmonizes with the natural turn of 
religious sentiment, or devotion, by referring all events to Divine 
agency ; and thus we avoid the common objection to the doc- 
trine of an overruling and ever-watchful Providence. 

Hume's objection to the argument from effect to cause. — A 
further advantage of this reasoning is, that it is not exposed to 
the objection urged by Hume, on the ground that the universe 
is a singular effect. The way is paved for this sophism by put- 
ting into the mouth of Cleanthes, the character in the Dialogues 
concerning Natural Religion who plays the part of a rational 
and consistent theist, a distinct avowal of the mechanical theory 
of nature. " Look round the world," says Cleanthes ; " con- 
template the whole and every part of it. You will find it to be 
nothing but one great machine, subdivided into an infinite num- 
ber of lesser machines, which again admit of subdivisions to a 
degree beyond what human senses and faculties can trace and 
explain." These words, though uttered by an imaginary speak- 
er, convey, I have no doubt, Hume's own opinion ; and they 
certainly leave the door open for the objection that is instantly 
made by Philo, who supports the character and cause of the 
atheist. 

"When two species of objects," says Philo, "have always 
been observed to be conjoined together, I can infer, by custom, 
the existence of one wherever I see the existence of the other ; 
and this I call an argument from experience. But how this 



OF THE PHYSICAL UNIVERSE. 175 

argument can have a place, where the objects, as in the present 
case, are single, individual, without parallel or specific resem- 
blance, may be difficult to explain. And will any man tell me, 
with a serious countenance, that an orderly universe must arise 
from some thought and art like the human, because we have 
experience of it ? To ascertain this reasoning, it were requisite 
that Ave had experience of the origin of worlds ; and it is not 
sufficient, surely, that we have seen ships and cities arise from 
human art and contrivance. Can you pretend to show any 
similarity between the fabric of a house and the generation of a 
universe ? Have you ever seen nature in any such situation as 
resembles the first arrangement of the elements ? Have worlds 
ever been formed under your eye ? and have you had leisure to 
observe the whole progress of the phenomenon, from the first 
appearance of order to its final consummation ? If you have, 
then cite your experience, and deliver your theory." 

This objection confuted. — N ow I might answer this sophistry 
at once, by saying, that although I have not witnessed the fabri- 
cation of a universe, I have watched the growth of a plant, from 
the first germination of the seed to the perfection of the blossom ; 
and though I have had' no personal experience of the origin of 
worlds, I yet know, whether from reason or the testimony of 
others, a fact that Philo himself will not deny, that this my body, 
the material apparatus of limbs and organs in which I live and 
move, did begin to be ; and of all its subsequent changes, its 
growth up to its present state, I have had the most intimate 
experience. But the admission or assertion of Cleanthes, that 
the universe is one great machine, seemingly bars out this reply, 
by leading us to infer that the preexisting machinery in the 
parent plant or blossom produced the seed, the future develop- 
ment and growth of which am but the subsequent action of the 
same machinery ; so that all which I have actually witnessed or 
experienced, is not the origin or beginning, but the continuance, 
of things. 

How obvious is the rejoinder, that this phrase, the universe, is 
a mere general expression for the totality of things, having only 
an ideal and fictitious unity, and being, in truth, nothing but an 



176 THE GENERAL CHARACTER 

abstract conception ! To recur to a former illustration, there is 
no such thing as an audience, apart from the individual men and 
women who compose it. Let us not be blinded by mere words. 
Individual things are the only objects which really exist ; as we 
profess here to argue only from facts, let us not confuse these 
with mere abstractions and generalities. To talk about explain- 
ing the origin of a universe, except this be understood to mean 
the accounting in succession for each of the real existences 
which make up a universe, is to deal in nonsense ; it is as if, 
after explaining in due order the motives which brought each 
of the hearers together, I should still be required to account for 
the general fact, that there was an audience assembled. And 
this remark applies, be it observed, not only to the different in- 
dividuals who at any one moment make up a sum total, or class, 
but to the other individuals who occupied the same spot before 
these began to be, and to others still, who shall fill their places 
after these cease to exist. The unity which is attributed by the 
mind, for the mere convenience of conception and speech, both 
to successive and contemporaneous individuals, is alike ideal 
and fictitious. 

• Individual things cannot have been created by machinery. — 
Let us see, then, whether this hypothesis of machinery, as the 
secret of the creation, not of a universe, but of individual things 
or real existences, is any thing more than a blank assumption. 
Suppose that two grains of sand, looking just alike, were placed 
on the floor before us, and, while we were watching them, they 
should begin to expand, shoot up, alter their forms, take all the 
aspects and qualities of life, and finally become distinct and re- 
cognizable, the one as a giant oak tree, and the other as a living 
and moving creature. On witnessing so strange a phenomenon, 
we could not help concluding that some personal agency had 
produced it, some power transcending that of man ; after satis- 
fying ourselves that there was no deception or mystification in 
the matter, we should at once refer it to a supernatural or mi- 
raculous cause. Nor would this conclusion be at all less logical, 
if the phenomenon were & frequent one, — if there were a moun- 
tain of such sand, from which particular grains being taken at 



OF THE PHYSICAL UNIVERSE. 177 

the proper season and carried to the proper place, both time 
and place being determined by experience, these results invari- 
ably followed. 

Now, this is a statement but very little disguised, and varying 
in no essential particular, from the description of what is actually 
and constantly taking place all around us, in living nature. The 
beginning of all life, and of all tissues, whether animal or vege- 
table, is in certain primitive cells, or germinal vesicles, perfectly 
resembling each other in external appearance, and so minute, 
that they can be discerned only under high powers of the micro- 
scope. The germs are alike to the eye ; but according to the 
place which each is taken from, whether from one side or 
another of the sand heap, it is developed by a regular process 
into a plant or an animal. If you say that there are specific 
differences between these microscopic grains, each one veil- 
ing some curious and elaborate machinery, peculiar to itself, 
by which this astonishing result is brought about, I answer, that 
your assertion is both gratuitous and incredible. It is gratui- 
tous ; for certainly we see no such machinery, and have no indi- 
cation whatever of its existence ; we see nothing but a little 
rectangular or circular cell, with a dot in it. It is incredible ; 
for we can no more conceive of the possibility of a machine 
under such circumstances producing such results, than we can 
believe that the automaton really plays an admirable game of 
chess solely by the means of wheels, springs, and cylinders. In 
both cases, we declare with positive conviction, that intelligence, 
will, and conscious activity are somewhere at work in this mat- 
ter, that some unseen person is actually causing the phenomenon. 
" If an animal or a vegetable," says Dugald Stewart, " were 
brought into being before our eyes, in an instant of time, — the 
event would not be in itself more wonderful than their slmo 
growth to maturity from an embryo or from a seed. But on 
the former supposition, there is no man who would not perceive 
and acknowledge the immediate agency of an intelligent cause ; 
whereas, according to the actual order of things, the effect steals 
so insensibly on the observation, that it excites little or no curi- 
osity, excepting in those who possess a sufficient degree of re- 



178 THE GENERAL CHARACTER 

flection to contrast the present state of the objects around them 
with their first origin, and with the progressive stages of their 
existence." Look at the animal when fully grown, moving 
about and performing all the functions of life, and then believe, 
if you can, that this creature, in all its parts and powers, is the 
necessary result of machinery and active energy that are unde- 
rived and naturally inherent in that microscopic cell, that mere 
grain of sand. Look, further, into your own consciousness, — 
for you, too, upon this hypothesis, were born from the dust, — 
and conceive of all your powers of mind and heart, your rea- 
soning, imaginative, and moral faculties, as the mere product of 
machinery in an infinitesimal germ. The part of the infidel 
here is really that of outrageous credulity.* 



* " The minds of most men are fond of what they call a principle, and 
of the appearance of simplicity in accounting for phenomena. Yet this 
principle, this simplicity, resides merely in the name ; which name, after all, 
comprises, perhaps, under it a diversified, multifarious, or progressive 
operation, distinguishable into parts. The power in organized bodies, of 
producing bodies like themselves, is one of these principles. Give a philos- 
opher this, and he can get on. But he does not reflect what this mode of 
production, this principle (if such he chooses to call it,) requires; how 
much it presupposes ; what an apparatus of instruments, some of which 
are strictly mechanical, is necessary to its success ; what a train it includes 
of operations and changes, one succeeding another, one related to another, 
one ministering to another ; all advancing, by intermediate, and frequently 
by sensible steps, to their ultimate result ! Yet because the whole of this 
complicated action is wrapped up in a single term, generation, we are to 
set it down as an elementary principle ; and to suppose, that when we 
have resolved the things which we see into this principle, we have suffi- 
ciently accounted for their origin, without the necessity of a designing, 
intelligent Creator. The truth is, generation is not a principle, but a pro- 
cess. We might as well call the casting of metals a principle ; we might, 
so far as appears to me, as well call spinning and weaving, principles ; and 
then, referring the texture of cloths, the fabric of muslins and calicoes, the 
patterns of diapers and damasks, to these, as principles, pretend to dis- 
pense with intention, thought, and contrivance, on the part of the artist ; 
or to dispense, indeed, with the necessity of any artist at all, either in the 
manufacturing of the article, or in the fabrication of the machinery by 
which the manufacture was carried on." — Paley's Natural Theology, Ch. 
xxiii. 



OF THE PHYSICAL UNIVERSE. 179 

The frequency of the 'phenomenon does not make it less mirac- 
ulous. — I say further, that the theological conclusion here is so 
obvious and reasonable, that all mankind would instantly adopt 
it without hesitation, just as they do an intuitive truth, if it 
were not for our familiarity with such results, arising from their 
countless number and constant repetition. One such birth, inter- 
rupting the uniformity of living nature, otherwise made up, so 
far as our knowledge extended, of beings without beginning or 
end, would instantly convert all men to a recognition of invisible 
power that is personal and Divine. But the frequency of the 
phenomenon wears out our wonder ; what is not strange, we 
refuse to consider as miraculous ; we look upon it mechanically, 
and so come to regard it as a mechanical effect.* But can any 
thing be more illogical or unreasonable, than to alter our conclu- 
sion solely because the evidence is midtiplied on which it rests ? 
Shall one birth, one beginning of living existence, prove the 
being of a Creator, and not a thousand ? Yet this is the whole 
of the atheistic argument : — the phenomena of nature are con- 
stantly repeated, therefore the universe is a machine ; and not 
only so, but a machine that made itself, or has existed from 
eternity. 

I have departed here, in some degree, you will perceive, from 
the strict argument from the effect up to the cause, by entering 
into some details respecting the peculiar character of certain 
effects as distinguished from others, so that the reasoning does 
not depend, as before, exclusively on the mere manifestation of 
power. This is taking a step towards the argument from de- 
sign, a mode of proof which seems more conclusive to most per- 
sons than any other, on account of its plainness, the numberless 
illustrations or confirmations of it, and the very direct evidence 
which it offers of the personality of the Deity. 

How the existence of a personal cause is indicated. — It is a 



* " Sed assiduitate quotidiana, et consuetudine oculorum, assuescunt 
animi; neque admirantur, neque rcquirunt rationes earum rerum quas 
semper vident ; perinde quasi novitas nos magis quam magnitude rerum 
debeat ad exquirendas causas excitare." — Cicero, de Nat. Dear. II. 38. 



180 THE GENERAL CHARACTER 

step further in the same direction to remark, that the different 
modes in which Divine power is here manifested, on the theory 
of immediate creative and sustaining energy, are just such as 
we might expect from infinite power, wisdom, and beneficence 
combined in one person, and exerted with entire freedom of will, 
— exerted also, I may now say, with reference to the moral 
government of intelligent finite beings, like ourselves. We 
should expect (1.) constancy in the regular attainment of certain 
great ends, and perfect uniformity in the modes of obtaining 
them ; together with (2.) infinite variety in what may be called 
the details of creation. The former, the general laivs, we find in 
the great recurrent phenomena of the universe, in the laws of 
gravitation, heat, light, magnetism, chemical affinity, and the like ; 
the latter, the variety, we find in the countless differences which 
distinguish all living forms from each other, and diversify to an 
immeasurable extent all the relations of life. With the general 
laws we are sufficiently acquainted, as it is the peculiar office of 
science to study them, since they alone serve to guide the con- 
duct of free and intelligent beings, and give all its value to 
experience. Because the physical inquirer is so exclusively 
occupied with these, he comes gradually to overlook the endless 
diversity of form and aspect under which they are manifested ; 
he sees everywhere the action of law, and the phenomena of 
nature appear to him regularly recurrent and mechanical. The 
botanist, for instance, studies only the specific differences of 
plants, disregarding the minute varieties of shape and hue which 
distinguish any two flowers of the same species from each other, 
and even the occasional freaks of nature, the metamorphosis of 
organs, the production of a leafy branch from the centre of a 
flower, or of one flower out of another ; or if he considers these 
abnormal growths at all, it is in a vain attempt to reduce them 
to the dominion of law, by virtue of a theory which represents 
the universe as incomplete, as an idea not yet realized, a plan 
not fully carried •out. My point here is simply, that these count- 
less diversities of nature, which are not studied solely because 
they are countless, are as much a part of creation, a part, so to 
speak, of the Divine plan, as the general laws themselves. The 



OF THE PHYSICAL UNIVERSE. 181 

filaments of order run in every direction through the web of the 
universe ; but they can be discerned only under the surface- 
pattern, which combines all possible modifications of outline and 
coloring in measureless profusion.* 

Man's conduct shows uniformity united with endless variety. — 
I say, tins regularity in the midst of diversity-is precisely what 
we should expect from the action of a free and intelligent 
agent ; the order manifests intelligence, the variety bears witness 
to freedom. For consider the actions of a finite conscious 
being, who is a feeble representative, it is true, but the only 
representative that we have, of Deity, in so far as he unites 
power with intellect and freewill. So far as the great aims 
and purposes of life are concerned, according as these are deter- 
mined by appetite, self-love, habit, or the moral sense, the con- 
duct of man is consistent and uniform, and you may safely 
predict the future from the past. We may even foresee the 
results of the combined free activity of great masses of men, 
from the known motives and the comparative strength of differ- 



* " Peu de principes, de grands moyens en petit nombre, des phenom- 
enes infinis et varies, voila le tableau de Funivers." — Baily, Hist, de 
V Astronomic • 

"Nature/' says Cuvier, "while confining herself strictly within those 
limits which the conditions necessary for existence prescribed to her, has 
yielded to her spontaneous fecundity wherever these conditions did not 
limit her operations ; and without ever passing beyond the small number 
of combinations, that can be realized in the essential modifications of the 
important organs, she seems to have given full scope to her fancy, in 
filling up the subordinate parts. With respect to these, it is not inquired, 
whether an individual form, whether a particular arrangement, be neces- 
sary ; it seems often not to have been asked, whether it be even useful, in 
order to reduce it to practice ; it is sufficient that it be possible, that it 
destroy not the harmony of the whole. Accordingly, as we recede from 
the principal organs, and approach to those of less importance, the varie- 
ties in structure and appearance become more numerous ; and when we 
arrive* at the surface of the body, where the parts the least essential, and 
whose injuries are the least momentous, are necessarily placed, the number 
of varieties is so great, that the conjoined labors of naturalists have not yet 
been able to give us an adequate idea of them/' — Lecons d'Anaiomie Com- 
parte. 

16 



182 THE GENERAL CHARACTER 

ent motives which are present to the minds of each one of them. 
Political Economy is a science wholly made up of such general- 
izations of the conduct of men as may be made by observing 
the uniformity of their proceedings in respect to the acquisition 
of wealth. That competition lowers prices, which are finally 
adjusted by the ratio of the supply to the demand, is, in truth, a 
general law of human nature, founded not at all on the nature 
of the different articles which constitute wealth, but on the dis- 
positions of men. It may be obtained either empirically, by 
observing the course of trade, or deductively, from the higher 
laws or generalizations, that ail men desire wealth, will buy as 
cheaply and sell as dearly as possible, and that their intelligence 
will direct them to the use of similar means for attaining these 
ends. 

Mr. Mill even goes so far as to propose a new science, resting 
on the same general basis, which he would call Political Eth- 
ology, or " the science of the causes which determine the type 
of character belonging to a people or an age." Here the bias 
of the Necessarian or Fatalist appears, striving to reduce all the 
complexity and variety of human action under the dominion of 
law, and to calculate it as he would the effects of an ordinary 
machine. Human conduct, viewed in the gross, appears nearly 
as uniform as the phenomena ascribed to gravitation ; but when 
viewed in detail, it is a mass of waverings, inconsistencies, 
motiveless alterations, and oddities attributed to idiosyncrasies 
of character, which baffle all computation and foresight. A 
man seldom walks across a room, greets a visitor, or eats his 
dinner twice in precisely the same manner ; the life, the char- 
acter, of not one individual is the perfect counterpart of that of 
another. Look at great masses of men only from a distance, 
at which minute peculiarities are lost in the general effects, 
(just as the sounds from a distant city are blended into one hol- 
low murmur,) and they appear like machines, or rather the 
multitude itself seems one great machine. But examine micro- 
scopically the conduct of an individual for two successive hours, 
and the hypothesis of machinery is the very last that you 
would adopt. How hard it is to reduce one's muscular motions 



OF THE PHYSICAL UNIVERSE. 183 

to exact law and method, though each depends on a distinct 
volition, appears from the difficulty which all find in learning to 
play on a musical instrument, where the necessities of time and 
tune require the utmost precision of fingering. Even Mr. Mill 
is obliged to confess the obstacles to the establishment of his 
favorite social seience, arising from " the idiosyncrasies of organ- 
ization on the peculiar history of individuals." * 

The charge of anthropomorphism considered. — I am aware, 
that this parallel between the providence of God as shown in 
the physical history of the universe, and the conduct of man 
considered as depending on intelligence and freewill, may seem 
to many too bold, and that the doctrine which brings the two 
together is open to the reproach of anthropomorphism. But 
we are not to be driven from any wellgrounded conclusions, 
resting on the testimony of facts or on logical speculation, by 
any overstrained fastidiousness or a blind horror of an ugly 
word. This charge of anthropomorphism, or of degrading our 
conceptions of the Deity by ascribing to him the forms, quali- 
ties, and imperfections of finite and dependent creatures, is the 
.favorite resource of the skeptics of the day, directed especially 

* "All in external nature," says De Quincey, "proceeds by endless 
variety. Infinite change, illimitable novelty, inexhaustible difference, these 
are the foundations upon which nature builds, and ratifies her purpose of 
individuality, — so indispensable amongst a thousand other great uses, to 
the very elements of social distinctions and social rights. But for the 
endless circumstances of difference which characterize external objects, the 
rights of property, for instance, would have stood upon no certain basis, nor 
admitted of any general or comprehensive guarantee. 

" As with external objects, so with human actions ; amidst their infinite 
ipproximations and affinities, they are separated by circumstances of 
never-ending diversity. History may furnish her striking correspondences, 
Biography her splendid parallels, Borne may in certain cases appear but 
the mirror of Athens, England of Borne ; — and yet, after all, no character 
can be cited, no great transaction, no revolution of ' high-viced cities,' no 
catastrophe of nations, which, in the midst of its resemblances to distant 
correspondences in other ages, does not include features of abundant dis- 
tinction and individualizing characteristics, so many and so important, as 
to yield its own peculiar matter for philosophical meditation and its own 
separate moral." — De Quincey's Essay on CJiarlemagne. 



184 THE GENERAL CHARACTER 

against the argument from design, which represents him as using 
means for the attainment of specific and limited ends ; as if the 
use of any means whatever were a supposition' derogatory to 
Omnipotence. That our knowledge of the Divine character is 
imperfect at best, and that we are in danger, in seeking to in- 
crease it, of passing over to mean and idolatrous conceptions of 
his attributes, we may frankly confess, as it is a truth attested 
by the history of all the degrading forms of superstition which 
have prevailed among ignorant and sinful men. " Canst thou 
by searching find out God ? Canst thou find out the Almighty 
to perfection ? It is high as heaven ; what canst thou do ? 
deeper than hell ; what canst thou know ? " But he has not left 
us wholly without light ; and the indications of his being and 
attributes that are accessible, whether in the volume of his 
Word or in that of his works, are to be diligently and reverently 
studied, without fear lest they shoidd lead our imperfect appre- 
hensions wholly astray. It was the remark of a pagan poet, 
adopted by a Christian apostle, that " we also are his offspring." 
And if so, even the weak and bounded faculties of his children, 
made in his image, when purged of earthly stains and freed 
from all limitations, may still find their likeness in the attributes 
of the Infinite One. The charge of anthropomorphism, in the 
strict meaning of that word, is, of course, a senseless and ground- 
less one, when brought against the doctrine that ascribes eternal 
duration, omnipotence, and omnipresence to the Deity. And 
in the higher moral attributes of our own being, if we have no 
reflection — faint, it is true, but still a reflection — of the Divine 
nature, — if the highest and purest conception which we can form 
of holiness does not merely come short of, but differs essentially, 
or in kind, from the Divine exemplar, then indeed are we most 
miserable, and our knowledge on this subject is worse than utter 
ignorance. But all intelligence is necessarily of the same order, 
though differing infinitely in degree ; and in this respect, we 
cannot doubt that it is the inspiration of the Almighty that 
giveth us understanding. To say that the use of means to any 
end is not consonant with the perfections of an infinite being, is 
to arrogate to ourselves his absolute wisdom, and to make the 



OF THE PHYSICAL UNIVERSE. 185 

creature a judge of the Creator. Besides, the anthropomorphic 
tendency of our finite conceptions is met by a danger of the 
opposite character, — by the risk of so far sublimating our 
notion of Divinity, that nothing shall be left but the undefined 
shadow of an awful idea, dimly inferred from transcendental 
musings. Better to sensualize our conceptions, so that the 
affection due to a Father may enter into them, than to refine 
them into limitless abstractions. — 1~ 

Order indicates intelligence. — The order that reigns in the 
works of creation, the uniformity of constantly recurrent phe- 
nomena, may be viewed either in itself, as a direct indication 
of intelligence, or as the fruit of design, and thus indirectly 
showing the wisdom of the contriver. Order is not necessarily 
purposed for its own sake ; it is the consequence of wisdom in 
action, constantly tending towards the same ends, pursuing them 
by the best means, and without variableness or shadow of turn- 
ing. But it may also be designed, as a part of the scheme for 
governing those who are left in the main to the guidance of 
their own wills and understandings, and so need the uniformity 
of nature's laws for the regulation of their conduct. In the 
latter respect, then, the consideration of it comes in as one 
branch of the argument from design ; in the former, the point 
of the reasoning is so well illustrated by an anecdote borrowed 
by Dugald Stewart from the French, that I translate it from the 
Notes to his Dissertation on the Progress of Metaphysical, 
Ethical, and Political Philosophy. 

"Among the associates of the Baron d'Holbach [who were 
all atheists], Diderot one day proposed that they should select an 
advocate to plead the cause of the Deity ; and the Abbe Galiani 
was chosen. He took his seat, and commenced as follows : — 

" ' One day at Naples, a certain person in our presence put 
six dice into a dice-box, and offered a wager that he would 
throw sizes with the whole set. I said, that the chance was 
possible. He threw the dice in this way twice in succession ; 
and I still observed, that possibly he had succeeded by chance. 
He put back the dice into the box for the third, fourth, and fifth 
time, and invariably threw sizes with the whole set. " By the 

16* 



186 THE GENERAL CHARACTER 

blood of Bacchus," I exclaimed, "the dice are loaded;" and so 
they were. 

" ' Philosophers, when I look at the order of nature that is 
constantly reproduced, its fixed laws, its successive changes, 
invariably producing the same effect, — when I consider that 
there is but one chance which can preserve the universe in the 
orderly state in which we now see it, and that this always 
happens, in spite of a hundred million of other possible chances 
of perturbation and destruction, — I cry out, Surely, Nature's 
dice are also loaded.' " * 

This argument sound, though not demonstrative. — The argu- 
ment here is so plain and forcible, and affords so little room for 
sophistry and cavilling, that we cannot conceive of a person 
failing to be convinced by it, though he may wish to show his 
ingenuity in commenting upon it as a piece of reasoning. It is 
true, that this mode of proof is not, strictly speaking, a demon- 
stration. "The conclusion is not apodictical," says Kant; and 
this is the only defect which he has to urge against the argu- 



* " Man is always mending and altering his works ; but nature observes 
the same tenor, because her works are so perfect, that there is no place for 
amendments, nothing that can be reprehended. The most sagacious men 
in so many ages have not been able to find any flaw in these divinely con- 
trived and formed machines ; no blot or error in this great volume of the 
world, as if any thing had been an imperfect essay at the first ; nothing 
that can be altered for the better ; nothing but if it were altered, would be 
marred. This could not have been, had man's body been the work of 
chance, and not counsel and providence. Why should there be constantly 
the same parts 1 Why should they retain constantly the same places ? 
Nothing so contrary as constancy and chance. Should I see a man throw 
the same number a thousand times together upon but three dice, could you 
persuade me that this were accidental, and that there was no necessary 
cause for it ? How much more incredible then is it, that constancy in such 
a variety, such a multiplicity of parts, should be the result of chance ? 
Neither yet can these works be the effects of necessity or fate, for then 
there would be the same constancy observed in the smaller as well as in 
the larger parts and vessels ; whereas there we see nature doth, as it were, 
sport itself, the minute ramifications of all the vessels, veins, arteries, and 
nerves, infinitely varying in individuals of the same species, so that they 
are not in any two alike." — Ray's Wisdom of God in the Creation. 



OF THE PHYSICAL UNIVERSE. 187 

ment a posteriori. But what does such an objection amount to ? 
Suppose that after Franklin had proved the presence of elec- 
tricity in a thundercloud, by drawing the fluid to the earth, 
charging a Leyden jar with it, and causing it to manifest all the 
common electric phenomena, a bystander should still object in 
this wise to his doctrine and proof: — " You are judging of the 
presence of a thing only from its effects ; the truth of the theory 
opposed to yours is still conceivable ; your facts and arguments 
do not constitute a chain of reasoning like that which supports a 
proposition in Euclid." The plain answer would be, that the 
affirmation is supported by the only evidence of which, in the 
nature of things, it is susceptible. A fact can be proved only by 
other facts ; that which is not perceptible to the senses, can be 
made known only through its effects. And though the proof be 
not a demonstration, to reject it would be quite as plain an indi- 
cation of folly or insanity, as to deny the truth of any theorem 
in geometry. 

Universal skepticism cures itself. — Besides, it is evident, that 
if we admit the sufficiency of such objections, the whole fabric 
of physical science, which is founded upon such deductions from 
facts, must come to the ground. "We must reject all that the 
labors of the last three centuries have accumulated by question- 
ing nature, and sit down contented in hopeless ignorance ; for 
the same considerations which show the unsatisfactory character 
of what has been done, prove also that nothing more or better 
can ever be accomplished. As no one can seriously entertain 
such sweeping disbelief, universal skepticism in fact" cures itself, 
if " its universality is steadily kept in view, and constantly borne 
in mind. But in practice, it is an armory from which weapons 
are taken to be employed against some opinions, while it is 
hidden from notice, that the same weapon would equally cut 
down every other conviction." I repeat it, then, all the common 
metaphysical objections to the argument from design, and to the 
other modes of proving the Divine existence which proceed from 
the peculiarities of the effect to the cause, are equally destructive 
of our reliance on all history, all physical science, and even on 
all the ordinary maxims of experience which govern our daily 



188 THE GENERAL CHARACTER 

conduct. " Fortunately," says the great skeptic himself, " since 
reason is incapable of dispelling these clouds, Nature herself 
suffices for that purpose, and cures me of this philosophical de- 
lirium." 

" Whatever," says Sir James Mackintosh, " whatever attacks 
every principle of belief can destroy none. As long as the 
foundations of knowledge are allowed to remain on the same 
level (be it called of certainty or uncertainty) with the maxims 
of life, the whole system of human conviction must continue 
undisturbed. When the skeptic boasts of having involved the 
results of experience and the elements of geometry in the same 
ruin with the doctrines of religion and the principles of philoso- 
phy, he may be answered, That no dogmatist ever claimed more 
than the same degree of certainty for these various convictions 
and opinions ; and that his skepticism, therefore, leaves them in 
the relative condition in which it found them. No man knew 
better, or owned more frankly, than Mr. Hume, that to this 
answer there is no serious reply. Universal skepticism involves 
a contradiction in terms ; it is a belief that there can be no belief. 
It is an attempt of the mind to act without its structure, and by 
other laws than those to which its nature has subjected its 
operations. To reason without assenting to the principles on 
which all reasoning is founded, is not unlike an effort to feel 
without nerves, or to move without muscles." 

The conception of chance analyzed. — The idea of chance oc- 
curs so frequently in the discussion of the argument from design, 
that it is of the utmost importance that we should form a distinct 
conception of what is meant by it, and how the phenomena 
which common language ascribes to that abstraction are really 
produced. Now this conception will depend on the peculiar 
view which we may take of the theory of causation, or of the 
nature of phenomena in the physical universe. I have said, 
that there are but two such views or theories which are logical, 
complete, and consistent ; the one, which ascribes all change, all 
events that take place, to powers necessarily inherent in matter, 
and which therefore makes out all activity to be necessary and 
mechanical, and the universe to be one vast machine ; the other, 



OF THE PHYSICAL UNIVERSE. 189 

which attributes all motion, activity, and change to personal 
agency, which considers matter as necessarily passive and inert, 
and hence all phenomena which begin to be as direct results of 
power directed by intelligence, and accompanied by freewill. 
Now the word chance assumes different meanings according as 
we adopt one or the other of these theories. Under the former, 
there is no such thing as chance ; the word has absolutely no 
significance or applicability whatever. We cannot stop short 
of Spinozism ; there is nothing fortuitous ; every phenomenon 
is the invariable and necessary result of its antecedents, the in- 
variable and necessary cause of those which come after it. This 
truth is so clearly explained and illustrated by Mr. Mill, though 
certainly without a perception of its logical consequences, that I 
shall borrow his lauguage. 

" Chance is usually spoken of," he says, " in direct antithesis 
to law ; whatever (it is supposed) cannot be ascribed to any 
law, is attributed to chance. It is, however, certain, that what- 
ever happens is the result of some law, is an effect of causes, 
and could have been predicted from a knowledge of the exist- 
, ence of those causes, and from their laws. If I turn up a par- 
ticular card, that is a consequence of its place in the pack. Its 
place in the pack was a consequence of the manner in which the 
cards were shuffled, or of the order in which they were played 
in the last game ; which, again, were the effects of prior causes. 
At every stage, if we had possessed an accurate knowledge of 
the causes in existence, it would have been abstractedly possi- 
ble to foretell the effect 

" It is incorrect, then, to say that any phenomenon is produced 
by chance ; but we may say that two or more phenomena are 
conjoined by chance, that they coexist or succeed one another 
only by chance; meaning, that they are in no way related 
through causation ; that they are neither cause and effect, nor 
effects of the same cause, nor effects of causes between which 
there subsists any law of coexistence, nor even effects of the 
same original collocation of primeval causes." 

What is denoted, on this theory, by chance. — Obviously, then, 
on this theory, we ascribe the origin of a thing to chance only to 



190 THE GENERAL CHARACTER 

denote our ignorance of its true cause, not meaning to affirm 
that it was not caused at all. Its antecedents are so numerous 
and obscure, that we cannot discern the order of their succes- 
sion, or pick out from among them its latest and invariable fore- 
runner. 

" All nature is but art unknown to thee ; 
All chance, direction which thou canst not see." 

Not knowing the number of times that the dice knock against 
each other and against the sides of the dice-box, or the exact 
position in which each one was before it received each blow, 
we cannot tell which side will fall uppermost ; though, if we 
had this knowledge, from the combined effect of the law of 
gravitation and of these several impulses, we could foretell the 
exact position in which they would finally be left. There may 
be casual conjunctions of events, but no casual origin of them. 
Accordingly, on this mechanical theory of the universe, to put 
chance in the place of a First Cause is to deal in nonsense ; it 
is not simply an unfounded, but an unmeaning, hypothesis. On 
this theory, the world had no beginning ; nothing ever absolutely 
began to be. 

What chance denotes, on the second theory. — On the other 
theory, which ascribes all events to immediate personal agency, 
chance has a meaning as the opposite or absence of design. 
Whatever is done by a finite being, not for its own sake, but 
from its subserviency to some other object, is done without 
regard, if I may so speak, to the whole event, but only with 
regard to some, perhaps one, of its relations or effects. If I 
wish to walk in a certain direction, I may push a stone out of 
my path, intending only to remove an obstacle, and not caring 
where the stone may lie, so that it be not in my way ; that is, 
I purpose or design only the removal of an obstruction ; I do not 
purpose its removal to a particular spot. Its falling on a certain 
spot, then, is said to be, not causeless, — for it had a cause, just 
as much as any other event, — but accidental, that is, not 
designed. On either theory, therefore, to make chance, a cause, 
is simply to talk nonsense. Again, a sculptor removes chips 



OF THE PHYSICAL UNIVERSE. 191 

from the marble on which he is at work, intending only to bring 
out the statue, and not purposing the juxtaposition of these 
chips and dust as they fall. The form which the heap of refuse 
matter assumes on the ground is said to be accidental, because 
it was not designed. Chance, then, is, so to speak, the residuum 
of design ; a portion of the event — namely, the form of the 
chip in part, and its removal from the main block — was 
effected by design ; the remainder of its form, and its position 
when falling, were not intended, but were casual. Conse- 
quently, chance implies design ; we can attribute only a portion 
of an effect to it, and in so doing, we admit that the remaining 
portion was foreseen and desired. 

How casual effects may be distinguished from designed effects. 
— This illustration brings us to the knowledge of a criterion 
by which we may distinguish what is casual from what is in- 
tended. If we visited the studio of the artist during his 
absence, and saw the statue and the heap of chips lying side by 
side, why do we say that the form of the one. was designed, and 
that of the other was not? Obviously, on account of the 
regularity of shape and outline of the statue, and from its 
resemblance to the form of some human being or other crea- 
ture ; for an induction coextensive with our whole experience 
assures us, that aggregations which were casual, or not pur- 
posed, are quite irregular in shape, and bear no likeness to 
any thing except other aggregations, believed to be as casual 
as themselves. A skeptic might tell me, it is true, that I could 
not demonstrate the truth of my conclusion ; it is certainly con- 
ceivable, that the sculptor should have hewed off bits from a 
block of marble, intending only to make a fantastic or irregular 
pile of them ; and that he happened so to choose the points 
from which these pieces were taken, that a regular statue was 
left in the remainder of the block, though he never thought of 
that remainder. Well, I admit it ; this hypothesis is conceiv- 
able ; but is it credible ? Would you believe, under such cir- 
cumstances, that the sculptor has thus acted, and the statue had 
thus been produced accidentally, or without being intended ? 

I am not seeking now to illustrate the main purport of the 






192 THE GENERAL CHARACTER 

argument from design; the instance taken would be poorly 
chosen for that end. I seek only to expose the true nature of 
the chief metaphysical objection to that argument, in order 
that you may see clearly what that objection is worth. My 
point is, that, in declaring some, if not all, of the phenomena 
of the physical universe to have been produced by design, we 
are not making any unfounded assumption, or resting on any 
intuitive principle of the human intellect ; but we are judging 
from experience, from the largest possible induction of facts, 
the conclusion being of the same general character with all 
the ordinary results of physical science ; that is, it is supported 
by evidence of the same kind, though vastly superior in amount. 
From the experience of our own actions, we know what is the 
general character of those results which are intended or pur- 
posed, and those which are accidental. We know what sort of 
effects intelligent action produces, and what is the general aspect 
of casual coincidences and aggregations. Judging from this 
experience, we can tell ichere our fellow man has been at work, 
and, in the same manner, ichere God is at work. Finite intelli- 
gence difTers from infinite, not in the general character, but in 
the extent and excellence, of its operations.* 

* Dr. Whewell affirms, that design is an intuitive idea, a conception of 
pure reason, called out and developed, it is true, by experience, but not 
growing out of that experience. We can hardly believe that he is serious in 
this assertion. If design be considered merely as synonymous with inten- 
tion, or purpose, then it is evident, that we can have no knowledge of it 
until we have had experience of a purpose ; that is, until we have intended 
or designed to perforin some act. The origin of the idea is in reflection, 
or the observation of what passes in our own minds. So we experience a 
certain emotion, and apply a name to it, in order to distinguish it from 
other emotions, that differ from it in kind, or are excited by a different 
class of objects. But it would be very strange to say, that love, or wonder, 
or pity, was an intuitive idea. 

It is veiy true, that we mean something more than mere intention, in 
speaking of the argument from final causes. But the case here is still 
stronger against the assertion, which we are now considering. In this 
case, design is a very complex notion, nearly all the elements of it being 
drawn from mental experience. They are founded on our observation 
of ourselves, and are successively elaborated and united into the complex 



OF THE^ PHYSICAL UNIVERSE. 193 

What is proved by the argument from design. — Strictly 
speaking, the argument from design does not establish the exist- 
ence of a cause, but only the character of that cause, — that it is 
intelligent, personal, coextensive at least with the universe of 
existing things, and so Divine. From the reasoning pursued 
in the two former chapters, we were driven to the necessity of 
admitting some cause, whether personal or not, to account for 
the events which have taken place, and for those which are 
constantly going on under our observation ; and as the only 
power, or true cause, with which we are acquainted, is personal, 
being that of man himself, it was argued that the cause of all 
things not produced by human agency was also personal. To 
this it was certainly possible to answer, though the reply is 
surely a very indefinite and unmeaning one, that, discarding 
alike the hypothesis of active powers inherent in matter, and of 
personal agency such as is exerted by man, the phenomena of 
nature might be attributed to a cause in general, of which we 



notion, which we call design. The idea rests originally on a perception 
of the relation of means to an end. Having observed, that a particular 
event followed immediately after another, or several others, and connect- 
ing the consequent with these antecedents by an intuitive application of 
the law of causality, and believing that the course of nature is uniform, or 
that like effects will follow like causes, and desiring that the consequent 
event may again occur, — we act; that is, we exert our agency to bring 
about events similar to the former antecedent ones, doing this under the 
expectation, that a similar consequent event will follow. Thus design 
implies, — first, intelligence, or a knowledge of the laws of causality and 
uniformity ; — secondly, particular experience of some one event, A, hap- 
pening in immediate connection with several others, B and C ; — thirdly, 
a will to reproduce the event A ; — fourthly, action, in order to bring about 
the events B and C, under — (fifthly) an expectation that A will imme- 
diately follow. Are these five elements all of a priori origin ? Is not 
action necessarily implied in design 1 And how can we have an idea, of 
it until we have acted ; that is, until we have had experience, and derived 
knowledge directly from that experience % 

It is, indeed, in the complexity of this notion, that the importance of the 
argument from final causes almost wholly consists. Wherever we find 
indications of design, there is evidence, to an equal extent, of intelligence, 
will, activity, and foresight. 

17 



194: THE GENERAL CHARACTER 

can only say that we know nothing, and therefore cannot ascribe 
to it either intelligence or freewill. This is an appeal to hmnan 
ignorance, it is true ; and it violates that sound rule of inductive 
logic, which bids us attribute certain effects to any known and 
sufficient cause, even though no direct connection is traceable 
between them, provided there is no proved incompatibility of 
such a cause with these effects, in preference to attributing them 
simply to some unknown cause. But the consideration of the 
peculiar character of the effect affords a more direct answer to 
this vague objection, by proving incontestably that the First 
Cause must unite intelligence, will, activity, and foresight ; for 
these are all implied in design. The God thus revealed is an 
individual, self-conscious, and creative being, whose care extends 
to the minutest part of creation ; since his wisdom, activity, and 
benevolence can be as plainly seen in the structure of a blade 
of grass, as in a system of revolving satellites and suns. 

The argument from design a simple and obvious one. — The 
argument from design is a simple, obvious, and natural one, 
which can be assailed only by far-fetched, fine-spun, and meta- 
physical reasonings ; and this, it seems to me, is a strong consid- 
eration in favor of its soundness. Common men do not often 
reason wrongly about simple subjects and matters-of-fact ; they 
are often, indeed, mistaken in their premises; but granting 
these, they advance from them through a few steps of proof with 
unerring accuracy to a just conclusion. An uneducated man, 
of good common sense, is always a better inductive philosopher 
than a subtile logician, trained in the schools, who often winds 
himself up in a web of ingenious sophistry, so that he cannot 
move a step in any direction. The argument has been pro- 
pounded in nearly all ages of the world, of which we have any 
distinct record, and even among rude and illiterate tribes of 
men, to justify that faith which, in the mind of every person, 
depends upon it to a greater or less degree, though he may not 
be able to state it in precise language. It was as ably set forth 
and illustrated by Socrates, twenty-five hundred years ago, as 
it has been in any recent treatise on natural theology. Paley's 
celebrated illustration of it by a watch, is almost equalled in 



OF THE PHYSICAL UNIVERSE. 



195 



beauty and appositeness by Cicero's instance of an ingenious 
instrument, made by one Posidonius in his day, which accurately 
represented the motions of the heavenly bodies, as they were 
then known ; the Roman philosopher asks, if this were carried 
into Scythia or Britain, whether even the barbarous inhabitants 
of those countries would believe that more intelligence and 
ingenuity were required to construct this feeble imitation of the 
planetary sphere, than to make and keep in motion the stupen- 
dous sphere itself; or that the origin of the poor copy must be 
ascribed to wise design, while the original was the product of 
mere chance. Even the unlettered Greenlander told the 
Danish missionary, who came to instruct him, that as he knew 
his kojak, or boat, with its tackle and implements, could not be 
built without much labor and skill, and as the meanest bird 
required more ingenuity to make it than the best kajak, so he 
had always believed that some being must exist, wiser than the 
wisest man, who had made all these things. 

Statement of the argument from design. — Considering that 
the existence and eternal duration of a First Cause have been 
fully proved, both from the beginning and the continuance of 
the universe of things, the argument from design, in the form 
least open to cavil, to show that this cause must be intelligent, 
provident, and benevolent, can be very briefly stated. It is, 
that a great number of agents being found to work together by 
a complex and intricate, yet orderly process, towards the attain- 
ment of some end, there must exist an intelligent and active being, 
ivho had this end in view, and who made this disposition of the 
agents as means for its accomplishment. Orderly cooperation 
implies intelligent and directing power. And the order may be 
so perfect, and the number of cooperating agents so great, that 
this implication becomes, what is called in common discourse, 
not in logic, absolute certainty. "When the material frame of a 
living thing is so organized and put together, that a great num- 
ber of motions and effects can be produced with ease and within 
a small compass, all of them being subservient to the preserva- 
tion of the animal's existence, and closely adapted to its modes 
of life, the inference that this animal was fashioned by an intel- 



196 THE GENERAL CHARACTER 

ligent Creator is irresistible. When such instances of joint 
agency and adaptation are found to be, not few in number, and 
scattered, as it were, by chance amidst an infinite number of 
conflicting powers, disorderly arrangements, and nugatory re- 
sults, but manifestations of a great law that pervades all nature, 
uniformity being the general rule, and the varieties being strictly 
suited to the different circumstances, and all the parts, by a vis- 
ible connection, tending towards and effecting one general re- 
sult, — namely, the happiness of animal and intelligent life, — 
then the conclusion, that the whole framework of the universe 
was designed and executed by one Being of surpassing wisdom 
and goodness, comes home to the mind with a force and clear- 
ness which no prejudice can reject, and no sophistry evade. 

Number and perfection of the adaptations found in the physi- 
cal universe. — The point on which the whole stress of this 
argument depends, is the proposition, that adaptation proves 
design, or that the concurrence of means to an end, under cer- 
tain circumstances, must have been intentional ; that is, the end 
was foreseen and desired. All the other points are admitted. 
It is admitted, for instance, that design proves a designer, — that 
there cannot be contrivance unless there was some being who 
contrived ; this is little more than an identical proposition, or an 
explanation of the meaning of words. So, also, it is admitted 
that there are wonderful adaptations in the physical universe, 
countless in number, — grand, complex, and intricate beyond the 
most elaborate machine of man's device, — delicate, precise, and 
artistic to a degree exceeding what the finest perception of the 
senses, aided by the most finished instruments, can discover. I 
have already spoken of their number and variety, as they are 
found in the bodily structure of the animalcules which people 
with their multitude a drop of water, in the fabric and tissues 
of all vegetable and animal things, and in the disposition and 
arrangement of inorganic matter, from a clod of earth up to the 
wonderful framework and garniture of the heavens ; — a system 
of revolving worlds, whose motions and inequalities are so 
wonderfully balanced and adjusted, all subject to one law, exert- 
ing mutual influence, but never interfering, with the appendage 



OF THE PHYSICAL UNIVERSE. 197 

of minor orbs, all working harmoniously with the great scheme. 
" Earum autem perennes cursus, atque perpetui cum admira- 
bili incredibilique constantia, declarant in his vim et mentem 
esse divinam, ut haec ipsa qui non sentiat deorum vim habere, is 
nihil omnino sensurus esse videatur." As to their complexity, 
and the subserviency of numerous parts, dissimilar to each 
other, to one great end, take the most intricate engine that man 
ever contrived, — a carpet-loom, for instance, or a printing-press 
moved by steam, which it requires a day's study to take apart 
and understand ; — and yet the anatomist and physiologist will 
tell you, that this machine is not to be compared, in point of 
complexity and elaborateness, with your own body, in which 
the arrangement of means that continue, preserve, and repair it 
is so curious and intricate, that all the resources of modern 
science have not yet sufficed to thread the whole labyrinth and 
show the meaning of the entire structure. As to nicety of 
arrangement and perfection of finish, go into an observatory 
and examine a chronometer, or a sidereal clock, or a repeating, 
telescope, with its limbs graduated and marked off to the hun- 
dredth part of a hair's breadth ; and you will have but a faint 
idea of the delicacy and fine adjustment of the parts in the 
human eye and ear, through which these organs perform their 
office, and are preserved from injury or decay. 

The whole question is, whether these numerous, complex, and 
nice adaptations prove design. 



17 



198 THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN. 



CHAPTER IX 



THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN. 



Summary of the last chapter. — Hume's argument, that crea- 
tion is a singular effect, not coming within the range of our 
experience, and so not to be accounted for by inferences 
drawn from the phenomena which we now witness, has been 
answered by showing that the universe is a mere general con- 
ception, having but a fictitious unity, and what we are bound to 
explain is the origin, not of the whole, but of all the parts taken 
in succession. Adverting, then, to particular phenomena, of 
which we have experience, I showed that the development of 
particular plants and animals from microscopic germs, perfectly 
alike, so far as we can see, is a fact which we cannot help 
ascribing to some personal agency, some supernatural or mirac- 
ulous power ; for the hypothesis, that it is caused by some invisi- 
ble machinery in those germs, is both gratuitous and incredible ; 
— gratuitous, because we have no evidence that such ma- 
chinery exists ; incredible, because we cannot conceive of its 
possibility. I showed, further, that the phenomena of the uni- 
verse, in so far as they combine unity with diversity, order with 
boundless variety, general laws with distinctive and peculiar 
effects not resembling each other, were precisely what we should 
expect from individual and personal exertion ; for these also 
are the characteristics of human action. The works of intelLU 
gence show order in their aggregate, and immeasurable diversity 
in their details. 

An examination of the idea of chance proved that it was ap- 
plicable, not to the origin, but to the conjunctions of phenomena ; 
so that to ascribe creation to chance was not merely an un- 
founded, but an unmeaning hypothesis. On the theory of 



THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN. 199 

mechanical action and of powers inherent in matter, no event is 
fortuitous, but every fact, even the turning up of a card in a 
pack, or the falling of dice, is the necessary result of immu- 
table law ; we call it accidental, merely to mark our ignorance 
of its cause, and not to deny its causation. On the other theory, 
that of personal agency, chance is simply the opposite, or the 
residuum, of design ; it by no means implies absence of causa- 
tion, but simply that a portion of the effect was not intended or 
cared for " y its author. 

The criterion by which we distinguish fortuitous from designed 
effects. — Hence we come, by experience, to the knowledge of 
a criterion by which we distinguish designed effects from those 
which are fortuitous, or not designed. Order, uniformity, re- 
semblance to some object, subserviency to some end, is this crite- 
rion. We have ample experience of both classes of effects ; our 
induction is coextensive with all our observation of our own 
acts, those of our fellow-beings, and their results ; and the dif- 
ference between the two classes is so striking and obvious, that 
a child can see it, and read its meaning. We contrast, for in- 
stance, the pile of rubbish that a machinist casts out of his 
workshop with the elaborate, complex, and highly finished 
engine that he is fabricating within ; and if a skeptic should tell 
us, that possibly as much intellect and intention, as much delib- 
erate purpose, went to the formation of that refuse heap as of 
that engine, or that we had only a contingent, and so an unsat- 
isfactory, assurance that there was any purpose in either, and 
thus attempt to undermine our belief that there had been any 
artisan at work there, we should deem either that he was disor- 
dered in his wits, or that he was practising upon our credulity. 
How many and how curious are the adaptations that are found 
in nature. — If, with this criterion in hand, we come to exam- 
ine the phenomena of the universe so far as they do not depend 
on the agency of man, in order to see if there is any evidence of 
design in them, the answer which we obtain is decisive beyond 
all cavilling. We ask not now, whether the several arrange- 
ments and results eVer began to be, and so ever had a cause, or 
required power for their production ; that point has been consid- 



200 THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN. 

ered and determined already ; it has been proved that such a 
cause was, and is, — as otherwise the events themselves are 
inexplicable. The present question is, whether we can find 
proof that this productive energy was guided by intelligence, was 
exerted with reference to an end which it proposed and desired 
to accomplish. The answer is, that the adaptations which we 
discover in the world are so curious, far-reaching, and impor- 
tant, and moreover so numerous among all the arrangements oi 
matter, — they correspond so perfectly in their general charactei 
to the contrivances of man for attaining his objects, though they 
far transcend such human designs in wisdom, that we are irre- 
sistibly led to consider them as intentional. We can conceive 
that one or two slight adaptations should exist, which were not 
designed. Among the multitude of stones upon a sea-beach, for 
instance, we may by long search find one or two that are not 
only regular in form, but bear some rude resemblance to uten- 
sils or implements fashioned by man, so that with some diffi- 
culty they may be turned to useful purposes. A rude substi- 
stute for a hammer or chisel may thus be discovered. But 
these are lost among a countless number of shapeless pebbles 
which can be applied to no use. 

Such is not the character of those physical arrangements by 
or through which animal and vegetable life is sheltered, devel- 
oped, and continued in being. Here, every thing is artistic; 
every part, even the minutest, has its use ; the whole forms one 
system, every portion of which is essential to its perfection, as, 
by the curious disposition of the interior, all the parts act and 
react upon each other. According to a definition already 
quoted, an organism is that of ivhich all the parts are mutually 
ends and means. So perfect is this correspondence of the parts 
with each other and with the whole, that the eye practised in 
the study of them can, from a minute portion, supply what is 
lost, and build again the entire system. Give to the compara- 
tive anatomist a section of a single tooth, and he will tell you to 
what animal it belongs ; give him one scale of a fish that no 
longer exists except as imbedded in red sandstone, and he will 
reconstruct that fish, though he has never seen its entire fossil 



THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN. 201 

remains. Which is the worthier of admiration here, — the in- 
tellect which infers the shape and organization of the whole 
structure from so small a remnant of it, or that which so fash- 
ioned and ordered all the parts with minute correspondences 
and relations, that any one of them is a key to all the others ? 
Sagacity and skill, in their highest degrees, were required to 
find the key to the fabric ; and is there no proof of intelligence 
in the fabric itself, and in the creation of the means by which 
the discovery was rendered possible ? As well might we say 
that the ability to read a book was indeed a proof of intellect, 
but not the ability to write it. 

Arrangements made for future wants. — Design is necessa- 
rily prospective ; it is the adoption of means to secure an end 
not yet realized, or which exists only in idea. It implies knowl- 
edge and skill, therefore, for the selection of the proper means, 
and foresight of their mode of operation, and of the nature of 
the end to be obtained. Now there are certain arrangements 
in the animal and even in the vegetable kingdom, which, as 
they at first exist, seem to answer no useful end whatever ; but 
at a subsequent stage in the history of the organism, when new 
occasions or necessities have sprung up, they are found to be 
admirably adapted to some essential purposes. These, from 
their prospective character, seem to afford the required link of 
proof that the adaptation was intentional or designed. Thus, 
the human teeth do not grow till they are needed by a change 
of food consequent on advance in life ; and even the first set of 
teeth, with the alveolar process, or sockets, which contain them, 
which are suited for the child's use, are displaced or absorbed 
when the enlargement of the jaws renders them no longer fully 
competent for their office, and are replaced by a new set, which 
had long been forming beneath. Can you believe that this 
arrangement was not intended to answer the purpose which it 
actually does answer ? 

Other arrangements for contingent wants, or casualties. — 
Still more strongly indicative of design are the arrangements to 
meet certain wants which are not only prospective, but contin- 
gent on the intelligence and freewill of another being, so that it 



202 THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN. 

is doubtful whether they will ever exist. The casualties to 
which the human frame is subject are, to a great extent, avoid- 
able by human care and forethought ; still, they often happen, 
and there are numerous and beautiful arrangements in the sys- 
tem, or the animal economy, by which their consequences are 
met and repaired. The broken bone is again united by the 
matter which exudes from the two extremities, and knits them 
together even with greater solidity than the limb possessed in 
that part before, as if to guard against a repetition of the acci- 
dent. The bruised or diseased flesh is separated by a thickened 
coating from the sound portion, and then thrown off by suppur- 
ation, its place being gradually taken by new and sound tissue 
The main artery, which furnishes a limb with its chief supply 
of blood, being tied up and thus obliterated by the surgeon, in 
order to avoid the consequences of an accidental enlargement, 
collateral channels are made or enlarged by the Divine Helper, 
even the direction of the current in some of them being changed, 
so that the limb again receives its full supply. Shall we say 
here, that the surgeon, indeed, designed to stop up the main 
canal, but that there was no purpose or intention in the altered 
disposition of the other parts, by which the injurious effects of 
this stoppage were obviated ? It is needless to enumerate other 
instances ; the physician or the surgeon will tell you, that the 
body abounds with such adaptations or contrivances, so that his 
art is little more than waiting for their operation, and prevent- 
ing the unwise interference of the patient or his friends. The 
vis medicatrix, the recuperative and repairing force of nature, 
is that which lends nearly all its efficiency to medical skill.* 

Means are varied according to circumstances, but they still 
conduce to one end. — One other class of illustrations of inten- 
tional effects in the physical universe, may be aptly introduced 

* " Gaudet corpus vi prorsus mirabili, qua contra morbos se tueatur ; 
multos arceat ; multos jam inchoatos quam optime et citissime solvat ; 
aliosque suo modo ad felicem exitum lentius perducat. Haec Autocrateia, 
vis Naturae medicatrix vocatur; medicis, philosophis notissima et jure 
celeberrima. Hsec sola ad multos morbos sanandos sumcit, in omnibus 
fere prodest." — J. Gregory. 



THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN. 

by a quotation from a medical writer of approved authority. 
" The intention of nature," he observes, " can nowhere be so 
well learned as from comparative anatomy ; that is, if we would 
understand physiology, and reason on the functions in the ani- 
mal economy, we must see how the same end is brought about 
in other species. We must contemplate the part or organ in 
different animals, its shape, position, connection with the other 
parts, etc., and observe what thence arises. If we find one 
common effect constantly produced, though in a very different 
way, then we may safely conclude that this is the use or func- 
tion of the part. This reasoning can never betray us, if we are 
but sure of the facts." 

Now, to apply this remark, compare together the eyes of an 
eagle, a man, a fish, a mole, and lastly consider the case of that ' 
singular species of fish which inhabits only the dark waters of a 
vast cave, and so has no eyes at all ; compare them, I say, with 
reference to the different circumstances in which these several 
animals are placed, and to the adaptations of the organ to these 
different circumstances, and see if it be possible to avoid the in- 
ference that the eye was intended to see with. Here we have 
numerous instances of a concurrence of means to one end ; the 
means being varied just so far as to preserve a constant relation 
to the several media through which vision takes place, and to 
the purposes of the animal for which sight is required. The 
crystalline humor of the eyes of animals living in water, to suit 
the greater refractive power of the surrounding medium, is 
made, not plano-convex, as in land animals, but spherical. 
Means are provided, in the eyelids and tears, for cleaning the 
human eye from dust ; in the fish, this apparatus is unnecessary 
and is not found ; but the mud-crab, which seeks its food in mud 
and turbid water, and is thus liable to be blinded by slime, has 
a little brush near the eye, against which the prominent horny 
eye can be raised and wiped, " with an action as intelligible as 
that of a man wiping his spectacles." The means for cleaning 
the eyes should be veiy abundant and efficacious for birds, as 
they sweep with great velocity through great spaces of air, and 
for some quadrupeds whose eyes frequently come in contact 



204 THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN. 

with dust and other floating matter. On this account, their eyes 
are provided with a peculiar membrane, attached by a slender 
thread to a muscle placed in the back part of the eye, so as not 
to obstruct the vision. When this muscle contracts, the mem- 
brane is suddenly drawn over the fore part of the eye, sweeping 
it clean of every particle of dust, and then, by its own elasticity, 
falling back to its original position. To obtain greater length 
in a less compass, the cord of this muscle makes an angle, pass- 
ing through a loop formed by another muscle, and is there in- 
flected, as if bent round a pulley ; the second muscle, of course, 
when it contracts, twitches the first muscle at the point of in- 
flection, and so assists the action designed by both. " Every 
one," says Sir Charles Bell, " who has ridden a horse on a dusty 
road, must have been struck with the superior provision in the 
horse's eye ; he never suffers from the dust, because this car- 
tilage, being bedewed with the secretion of a peculiar gland, — ■ 
not tears, but a matter more glutinous, — sweeps across the eye, 
and collects and removes every particle of dust." 

Such adaptations must have been designed. — Is it credible 
that this beautiful apparatus, a delicate brush moving by the 
reciprocal action of a spring and of force applied to a slender 
cord passing over a pulley, was not contrived for the very pur- 
pose of removing injurious foreign matter from the eye, the lia- 
bility to such intrusion being foreseen, and the machinery being 
invented with special reference to this contingency ? Suppose 
a laborer, obliged to work amid the thick dust of a coal-mine, 
were found, on our visit to the pit, though we had never heard 
of such a contrivance before, to be provided with a compact 
self-adjusting machine, exactly resembling this membrana nidi- 
tans, except that it was not permanently attached to his eyes, 
but was put on and off like a pair of glasses. Suppose the 
wearer of it should tell us, that it was indeed a very convenient 
thing for keeping the dust out of his eyes, but that it was not 
made for this purpose, nor indeed for any purpose whatever, but 
was the mere freak of an ingenious artisan, who was accustomed 
to make curious little machines for no object at all, except to 
amuse himself; and that the laborer, visiting his museum one 



THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN. 20t> 

day, happened to see this apparatus, and perceiving that it 
would be useful for the protection of his eyes, had purchased it 
for this end. Should Ave believe this extravagant story ? I am 
not caricaturing the matter at all, but supplying what is, on the 
whole, a favorable illustration of the wisdom and justice of that 
doctrine which denies that any adaptations whatever, however 
complex, delicate, and exactly suited to the end, afford any 
proof of foresight and design. According to the philosophers 
who entertain this doctrine, all that we are entitled to affirm is 
the existence of the apparatus with all its parts, and the accom- 
plishment of a certain end by it, — that is, the mode in which it 
works ; for this is all that we see, all that is visible on the very 
face of the matter. To maintain that this end was contemplated 
beforehand, and desired by some other being, who devised these 
peculiar means for obtaining it, is to assert a fact of which we 
have no sensible evidence, and to attribute motives to a cause 
of whose essence we are wholly ignorant. 

Physical inquiry not limited to what can be seen externally. — 
Is it, then, a received maxim in physical inquiry, that our in- 
vestigations must be strictly limited to the outside of the phe- 
nomena, to a mere description of their external characteristics, 
and to the law of their succession, so that we are never entitled 
to infer the existence of any fact which is not directly visible ? 
If so, this criticism is just, and the argument from design is 
either wholly unfounded and deceptive, or it cannot be classed 
with the ordinary processes of inductive science whose correct- 
ness no one affects to question, and with which it has been my 
purpose to show that it is entirely coincident. To determine, 
whether this maxim is admitted, I will cite a passage from the 
latest, and probably the most judicious and profound, writer on 
inductive logic, who is certainly not biased in favor of any the- 
ological argument, and is not thinking of any such argument in 
the passage in question. 

" There is a great difference," says Mr. Mill, " between in- 
venting laws of nature to account for classes of phenomena, and 
merely endeavoring, in conformity with known laws, to conjec- 
ture what collocations, now gone by, may have given birth to 

18 



206 THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN. 

individual facts still in existence. The latter is the strictly 
legitimate operation of inferring, from an observed effect, the 
existence, in time past, of a cause similar to that by which we 
know it to be produced in all cases in which we have had actual 
experience of its origin" Is it possible to give, in abstract lan- 
guage, a more precise description of the case in hand ? We 
have had actual experience, both in our own works, and by ob- 
serving those of our fellow men, of complex contrivances, or 
designed adaptations to an end; and we have compared or 
contrasted these with the unintentional collocations of matter 
which are also attributable to human agency. With the light 
gained from this comparison, when we come to observe physical 
effects and arrangements, perfectly similar to these designed 
adaptations, and strongly contrasted with the unintentional 
groupings, we infer the existence, in time past, of a cause similar 
to that which produced the effects of which we have full knowl- 
edge, — that is, an intelligent and designing cause. 

Judicial and geological inferences compared with those of 
natural theology. — I go on now with the extract from Mr. Mill, 
to show what class of cases he had in view in making this 
remark, and because these cases are apt illustrations, perfect 
parallels, of the argument from design. " This, for example," 
he says, " is the scope of the inquiries of geology ; and they 
are no more illogical or visionary than judicial inquiries, which 
also aim at discovering a past event by inference from those of 
its effects which still subsist. As we can ascertain whether a 
man was murdered, or died a natural death, from the indications 
exhibited by the corpse, the presence or absence of the signs 
of struggling on the ground or on the adjacent objects, the 
marks of blood, the footsteps of the supposed murderers, and 
so on, proceeding throughout upon uniformities ascertained by 
a perfect induction without any mixture of hypothesis ; so, if 
we find, on or beneath the surface of our planet, masses exactly 
similar to deposits from water, or to results of the cooling of 
matter melted by fire, we may justly conclude that such has 
been their origin ; and if the effects, though similar in hind, are 
on a far larger scale than any which are produced now, we may 



THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN. 207 

rationally, and without hypothesis, conclude that the causes 
existed formerly with greater intensity." And so, I add, if we 
find, on the surface of our planet, adaptations exactly similar to 
arrangements known to be designed by man, we may justly 
conclude that intelligence was concerned in the formation of 
both ; and if these, though similar in kind, are on a far larger 
scale than any which are produced by man, we may rationally, 
and without hypothesis, conclude, that the intelligence which 
produced them was of a higher order than the human under- 
standing. 

Mr. Mill further observes, that " in the speculation respect- 
ing the igneous origin of trap or granite, the fact does not „ 
admit of direct proof, that those substances have been actually 
subjected to intense heat. But the same thing might be said 
of all judicial inquiries which proceed upon circumstantial 
evidence. We can conclude that a man was murdered, although 
it is not proved by the testimony of eyewitnesses that a man 
who had the intention of murdering him was present on the 
spot. It is enough, if no other known cause c ould have generated 
the effects shown to have been produced." Here, again, the paral- 
lel is complete. Certainly we have no direct proof, no testimony 
of eyewitnesses, that the Deity was present in person before 
these effects followed, and that he intended to produce them. 
It is enough for us to know, from our own experience and from 
that of the whole human family, that these effects could not 
have followed except from intelligent action, from a personal 
cause ; there is no other known cause adequate to their produc- 
tion. 

Accumulation of instances not needed ; the reasoning strictly 
logical. — It forms no part of my plan, you will perceive, to 
enter into a full exposition of the proofs from design, detailing 
their number and variety, and thus aiming to produce convic- 
tion by their cumulative effect. The examples that I have 
adduced are intended to show only the nature of the argument, 
its logical efficiency, and therefore they have been designedly 
taken from the most familiar treatises on Natural Theology. 
Strictly speaking, an accumulation of them is not needed ; for 



208 THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN. 

if one undoubted instance of the designed adaptation of means 
to ends can be produced, then an intelligent creative Deity must 
exist. If one fact alone, among all the circumstances enumerated 
by Mr. Mill, proves incontestably that the man was murdered, 
the consideration of the other traces of violence may be entirely 
omitted. Those who wish to enter into the argument in detail 
may find all that they need in Paley's excellent and unsurpassed 
exposition of it, two chapters of which, for this purpose, are 
worth all the Bridgewater Treatises put together. But an 
undefined impression, a lurking doubt, exists in many minds, 
fostered, if not created, by some popular metaphysical specula- 
tions, that there is a fundamental defect in this reasoning, an 
illogical assumption, which is carefully suppressed, or winked 
out of view, by those who are conscious that there is no other 
mode of getting rid of it. This is skepticism, the more danger- 
ous because it is wavering and indefinite ; for the doubt is enter- 
tained by many who do not even know what the alleged defect 
is. It is this vague impression which I have labored to confute, 
and for this purpose I have entered into a minute and probably 
tedious examination of the logical structure of the argument, 
comparing it with the evidence on which all physical science 
depends. The result is, that it is perfectly coincident with such 
evidence; it is of the same kind, though vastly superior in 
degree. 

Certain assumptions are necessary in all reasoning. — As to 
the alleged defect, the supposed assumption which is made, not 
only in the argument from design, but in all the truths of physi- 
cal science, and in the regulation of our daily conduct, a very 
few words will suffice to explain its character. In all these 
cases, we take it for granted that the human faculties are ade- 
quate to their work, that memory is not always confounded with 
imagination, that from similar effects we may infer the presence 
of similar causes ; and when we have no direct sensible evidence 
that a certain object exists, or a certain event has taken place, 
we may still learn the fact from some unquestionable indica- 
tions of its reality. These are assumptions ; and though the 
skeptic in words may deny them, in action he admits them with- 



THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN. 209 

<*at hesitation. If the evidence on which the theist relies were 
multiplied a thousand-fold, it would still be chargeable with the 
defect which we are now considering, and consistency would 
require the unbeliever still to reject it. I find this fact so clearly 
admitted and set forth by the chief of English skeptics, by 
Hume himself, that it is worth while to quote the passage. In 
the Dialogues to which I have already referred, after Philo has 
been arguing for some time, with great subtilty and ingenuity, 
against these assumptions, Cleanthes breaks out, with some im- 
patience : — 

" Your objections, I must freely tell you, are no better than 
the abstruse cavils of those philosophers who denied motion ; 
and ought to be refuted in the same manner, by illustrations, 
examples, and instances, rather than by serious argument and 
philosophy. Suppose, therefore, that an articulate voice were 
heard in the clouds, much louder and more melodious than any 
which human art could ever reach: Suppose that this voice 
were extended in the same instant over all nations, and spoke 
to each nation in its own language and dialect : Suppose that 
the words delivered not only contain a just sense and meaning, 
but convey some instructions altogether worthy of a benevolent 
being superior to mankind : Could you possibly hesitate a mo- 
ment concerning the cause of this voice, and must you not 
instantly ascribe it to some design or purpose ? Yet I cannot 
see but all the same objections (if they merit that appellation), 
which lie against the system of Theism, may also be produced 
against this inference. 

" Might you not say, that all conclusions concerning fact were 
founded on experience ; and that, when we hear an articulate 
voice in the dark, and thence infer a man, it is only the resem- 
blance of the effects which leads us to conclude that there is a 
like resemblance in the causes ; but that this extraordinary voice, 
by its loudness, extent, and flexibility to all languages, bears so 
little analogy to any human voice, that we have no reason to 
suppose any analogy in their causes ; and consequently, that a 
rational, wise, coherent speech proceeded, yo.u know not whence, 
18* 



210 THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN. 

from some accidental whistling of the winds, not from any- 
Divine reason or intelligence? You see clearly your own 
objections in these cavils, and I hope, too, you see clearly, that 
they cannot possibly have more force in the one case than in 
the other." 

The argument is a simple and obvious one. — The idea that 
there was a lurking difficulty in the argument, which theologians 
willingly avoided, seems to have proceeded from the fact, that it 
appeals to common sense and the plain instincts of our nature, 
while the objections to it are abstruse, far-fetched, and refined. 
It needs some study to perceive that they are, at least to an 
equal extent, shallow and sophistical, as they rest solely on the 
mistaken notion, that metaphysical reasoning is applicable to 
matters-of-fact. What would be thought of the wisdom, or 
even the sanity, of the mathematician who, having found from 
the calculus what must be the form of a body which is to move 
through a fluid with the least possible resistance, and having 
ascertained also, (what happens to be true,) that his abstract 
conclusions are rebutted by simple and decisive experiments, 
should yet adhere to his results as available for practical pur- 
poses, on the ground that they were supported by demonstra- 
tion, while they were not contradicted except by the evidence 
of the senses, which is a source only of contingent assurance ? 
The child or the savage knows that facts are a test of reasoning, 
and not reasoning of facts. "Is it not fitting," said a savage 
of Sumatra to his companion, showing him a watch that had 
been made in Europe, " that a people such as we should be the 
slaves of a nation capable of forming such a machine ? The 
sun," he added, " is a machine of the same nature." " And 
who winds him up ? " asked his companion. " Who," replied 
he, " but Allah." Thus it is, as Paley remarks, that these proofs 
" are sufficiently open to the views and capacities of the un- 
learned, at the same time that they acquire new strength and 
lustre from the discoveries of the learned. If they had been 
altogether abstruse and recondite, they would not have found 
their way to the understandings of the mass of mankind j if 



THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN. 211 

they had been merely popular, they might have wanted solid- 

Why the Creator works by means and agencies. — But it is said, 
that the use of means to an end implies the existence of diffi- 
culties and obstacles, and so leads to a supposition of defect of 
power ; contrivances are human conceptions to get rid indirectly 
of obstacles which we are not able immediately to remove by a 
simple act of the will ; therefore they cannot rightly be attrib- 
uted to Omnipotence, which is always adequate to the direct 
accomplishment of its ends. Thus, a child must use a lever to 
raise a weight which the adult lifts at once without effort ; the 
boy must stand in a chair to arrive at an object that is within 
reach of his parent's arm. It is hardly enough to say, simply, 
that it has pleased the Almighty to work by means and agen- 
cies, instead of directly accomplishing his purposes, unless we 
can supply some reason for this preference which shall be con- 
sistent with infinite wisdom. I answer, then, that we immedi- 
ately discover such a reason, if we bring in the idea of the moral 
government of man, a creature endowed with intellect and con- 
science, and left to complete his earthly education and proba- 
tion by his own freewill. The ultimate purpose of all these 
contrivances, then, is, that the study of them may lead us up to 
a knowledge of the existence and attributes of their Infinite 
Author. And further, for the regulation of our daily conduct, 
in order that we may infer the future from the past, it is neces- 
sary that the course of nature, or the action of Deity, should be 
uniform, or, in other words, that it should be governed by gen- 
eral laws. " It has been said, that the problem of creation was, 
i Attraction and matter being given, to make a world out of 
them.'" How could we act at all, self-guided, unless from 
reliance on the constantly recurring and uniform phenom- 
ena of gravitation, light, heat, chemical affinity, and the like ? 
" These," to quote again from Paley, " are general laws ; and 
when a particular purpose is to be eftcted, it is not by making 
a new law, nor by the suspension of the old ones, nor by 
making them wind, and bend, and yield to the occasion ; but it 
is by the interposition of an apparatus corresponding with these 



212 THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN. 

laws, and suited to the exigency which results from them, that 
the purpose is at length attained." * 

The assumption of design a fruitful principle in physical sci- 
ence. — That final causes, or the purposes for which numberless 
arrangements and adaptations were made, can be discerned in 
nature, is not only a principle in Natural Theology, but a re- 
ceived doctrine, and a fruitful one, in physical science, especially 
in the departments of physiology and zoology, in which it has 
been a guide to the most important discoveries. Thus, Harvey, 
in 1616, having learned that there were valves in the veins, 
which opened towards the heart, and. thus permitted the blood 

* " Is it nothing more than a lucky accommodation which makes the 
polarity of the needle to subserve the purposes of the mariner ? Or may it 
not safely be affirmed, both that the magnetic influence (whatever its pri- 
mary intention maybe) had reference to the business of navigation — a 
reference incalculably important to the spread and improvement of the 
human race ; and that the discovery and the application of this influence 
arrived at the destined moment in the revolution of human affairs, when, 
in combination with other events, it would produce the greatest effect ? 
Nor should we scruple to affirm, that the relation between the inclination 
of the earth's axis and the conspicuous star which, without a near rival, 
attracts even the eye of the vulgar, and shows the north to the wanderer on 
the wilderness, or on the ocean, is in like manner a beneficent arrangement. 
Those who would spurn the supposition that the celestial locality of a sun, 
immeasurably remote from our system, should have reference to the ac- 
commodation of the inhabitants of a planet so inconsiderable as our own, 
forget the style of the divine works, which is, to secure some great or ■principal 
end, compatibly with ten thousand lesser and remote interests. Man, if he would 
secure the greater, must neglect or sacrifice the less : not so the Omnipo- 
tent Contriver. It is a fact full of meaning that those astronomical phe- 
nomena, (and so others), which offer themselves as available for the pur- 
poses of art, — as, for instance, of navigation or geography, — do not fully 
or effectively yield the aid they promised, until after long and elaborate 
processes or calculations have disentangled them from variations, disturb- 
ing forces, and apparent irregularities. To the rude fact, if so we might 
designate it, a mass of recondite science must be appended, before it can 
be brought to bear with precision upon the arts of life. Thus, the polarity 
of the needle, or the eclipses of Jupiter's moons, are as nothing to the 
mariner or the geographer, without the voluminous commentary af- 
forded by the mathematics of astronomy." — Taylor's Introduction to 
Edwards, p. cxxxvii. 



THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN. 213 

to pass in this direction, while they would prevent its passage 
towards the extremities, and that the valves at the exit of the 
arteries from the heart opened in the opposite direction, assumed 
that these valves must have been intended to allow and direct 
the movement of the blood, and was thus led to the capital dis- 
covery of the circulation. To prove the fact, he tied the veins, 
and foimd that they swelled on the side nearer the extremities ; 
he tied the arteries, and found that they swelled on the side 
nearer the heart. It would be easy to show, that nearly all the 
great discoveries winch have been made in physiology since 
Harvey's time, have proceeded from this same doctrine, — from 
the assumption, that is, that no part of the body exists without 
some use, or function, which it was designed to fulfil. Observe, 
that here it is not a knowledge of the adaptation which sug- 
gests the purpose, but an assumption of the purpose which leads 
to a knowledge of the adaptation, or use.* 

To show the fruitful application of the same principle in 



* "In Biology alone/' observes Bichat, "have we to contemplate the 
state of disease. Physiology is to the movements of living bodies, what 
astronomy, dynamics, hydraulics, etc., are to those of inert matter : but 
these latter sciences have no branches which correspond to them as 
■pathology corresponds to physiology. For the same reason, all no- 
tion of a medicament is repugnant to the physical sciences. A medica- 
ment has for its object to bring the properties of the system back to their 
natural type ; but the physical properties never depart from this type, 
and have no need to be brought back to it ; and thus there is nothing in 
the physical sciences which holds the place of therapeutics in physiology : " 
" or," Dr. Whewell justly adds, " as we might express it otherwise, of inert 
forces we have no conception of what they ought to do, except what they 
do. The forces of gravity, elasticity, affinity, never act in a diseased man- 
ner ; we never conceive them as failing in their purpose ; for we do not 
conceive them as having any purpose, which is answered by one mode of 
their action rather than another. But with organical forces, the case is 
different ; they are necessarily conceived as acting for the preservation and 
development of the system in which they reside. If they do not do this, 
they fail, they are deranged, diseased. They have for their object to con- 
form the living being to a certain type ; and if they cause or allow it to 
deviate from this type, their action is distorted, morbid, contrary to the 
ends of nature. And tbus this conception of organized beings as suscep- 






214 THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN. 

zoological researches, I have only to borrow the language of the 
illustrious Cuvier, at the commencement of his great work on 
the Animal Kingdom. " Zoology," he says, " has a principle of 
reasoning which is peculiar to it, and which it employs with ad- 
vantage on many occasions ; this is the principle of the conditions 
of existence, vulgarly called the principle of final causes. As 
nothing can exist, if it do not combine all the conditions which 
render its existence possible, the different parts of each being 
must be arranged in such a manner as to render the total being 
possible, not only in itself, but in its relations to those which 
surround it ; and the analysis of these conditions often leads to 
general laws, as clearly demonstrated as those which result from 
calculation or experience." Thus, " If the viscera of an ani- 
mal are so organized as only to be fitted for the digestion of 
recent flesh, it is also requisite that the jaws should be so con- 
structed as to fit them for devouring prey ; the claws must be 
constructed for seizing and tearing it in pieces ; the teeth, for 
cutting and dividing its flesh ; the entire system of the limbs or 
organs of motion, for pursuing and overtaking it ; and the 
organs of sense, for discovering it at a distance. Nature must 
also have endowed the brain of the animal with instincts suffi- 
cient for concealing itself, and for laying plans to catch its neces- 
sary victims." " By such considerations," adds Mr. Whewell, 
Cuvier " has been able to reconstruct the whole of many ani- 
mals of which parts only were given ; — a positive result, which 
shows both the reality and the value of the truth on which he 
wrought." 

Natural theology is knoivledge ; infidelity is ignorance. — 
Thus it appears that the theological argument from design is 
not merely coincident in character, and of the same logical 
force, with the principles of physical science, but it is identical 

tible of disease, implies the recognition of a state of health, and of the or- 
gans and vital forces as means for preserving this noi'mal condition. The 
state of health and perpetual development is necessarily contemplated as 
the Final Cause of the processes and powers with which the different'parts 
of plants and animals are endowed." — Philosophy of the Ind. Sciences, Vol. 
I. p. 627. 



THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN. 215 

with many of those principles. It is one and the same maxim, 
or law of inquiry, which guides the anatomist to a knowledge of 
many parts of an animal structure that he has never seen, and 
leads the seeker after religious truth to a recognition of the 
being, the wisdom, and the beneficence of a God. It furnishes 
him, also, with an explanation of the mysteries of that universe 
which he inhabits, with a key to the true purpose and character 
of those marvellous arrangements and adaptations in the midst 
of which he lives, and on which, indeed, his existence depends. 
If the phenomena of nature were not arranged by an all-wise 
Providence, if this earth does not show the footprints of Divin- 
ity, then those phenomena are inexplicable, and the origin and 
tendency of all things are surrounded by a veil which no human 
eye can pierce. Our life itself is but " a confused noise between 
two silences ; " we emerge from the darkness at one end, only to 
find ourselves surrounded with wonders whose meaning we can- 
aot fathom, and then to pass again into the thick gloom whose 
portal is the grave. Infidelity offers us no compensation or sub- 
stitute for the light that it extinguishes, for the faith which it 
lestroys ; it accounts for nothing, it explains nothing ; it is a 
mere confession of blank, hopeless ignorance. We can find, 
aot a refuge, but a resting-place, either in the appalling system 
:>f Spinoza, under the iron rule of fatalism, which deprives us 
alike of the consciousness of our own personality, and of all 
motive for action or effort, or in the absolute skepticism of 
Hume, which is mere negation and darkness, where we have no 
issurance even of the grounds of disbelief. The doctrine of 
theism dissipates this gloom ; it supplies a reason for exertion, 
ind objects for study ; it is a vindication of the possibility of 
human knowledge. It can be overthrown only by a denial of 
that possibility. 

Theology needed to Jill up our knowledge of nature. — What 
we call nature is an assemblage of objects, and a succession of 
events. These objects are not simple and uniform, but complex, 
varied, and curiously fashioned, abounding in curious adjust- 
ments and nice arrangements of parts. The events do not suc- 
ceed each other irregularly, or seemingly at random, but in a 



216 THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN. 

fixed order, preserving harmonious relations, which enable us to 
divine the future from the past. In spite of our life-long fa- 
miliarity with these marvels, and the petrifying influence of such 
continuous observation upon our feelings of wonder and admira- 
tion, we cannot rest contented with the slender knowledge which 
we gain of them merely from the senses, — that is, with a 
record of their occurrence, and a description of their successive 
changes and outward aspects. An irresistible impulse leads us 
to inquire into their origin, meaning, and tendency. Whence 
are they, and why do they exist ? Human science alone, with- 
out any aid from theology, without any light from above, has no 
answer to these questions, and, when properly understood, does 
not even attempt to answer them. It describes the phenomena, 
as they are seen, with greater or less minuteness, it records the 
order of their succession, and it assumes the invariability of this 
order, or its continuance in the future and the past. It describes 
and classifies facts, and supposes the existence of similar facts ; 
and this is all. With a kind of dim consciousness, indeed, that 
these results do not exhaust the subject, or satisfy the demands 
of rational curiosity, it holds up the laws of phenomena as sub- 
stitutes for their causes, in a vain attempt to explain their origin. 
But these physical causes, as they are termed, cannot pass for 
real ones ; for the manner in which an event takes place does 
not show the reason of its occurrence, or give us any informa- 
tion of the power that produced it. 

How our vieiv of nature is affected by a knowledge of its Au- 
thor. — The great fact of the existence of an omnipresent and 
ever-active Deity, the author, supporter, and immediate cause 
of all things, affords the only possible answer to these inquiries, 
the only key which will open the secrets and the mysteries of 
the universe. That this doctrine first gives distinctness to our 
conceptions by explaining the fact of creation, or the origin of 
things, is an insufficient statement of its importance ; it solves 
the far more difficult problem respecting the continuance, mean- 
ing, and tendency of those objects and events which mere human 
science only observes and records. It answers the questions 
why and wherefore for all the phenomena of time and space. 



THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN. 217 

Adaptations now reveal a purpose ; nice adjustments show de- 
sign. We are not limited now to a mere description of the organ, 
and of the office which it actually performs ; we can point to its 
Creator, and tell ivhy it exists, and what object it was intended 
to answer. We can assume beforehand that every thing, down - 
to the minutest fibre of the humblest organism, has a purpose, 
or a final cause,* since infinite wisdom does nothing in vain. 
We can even assume that creation is formed throughout upon 
one plan, and directed by a single purpose ; and we find that 
this is an intelligible plan, a discoverable purpose. Here is not 
only a positive enlargement of our knowledge, but a guide and 
object for our subsequent inquiries. Those who reject the doc- 
trine which furnishes this guide may content themselves, if they 
can, with those limitations which so eminent a naturalist as 
Geoffroy St. Hilaire proposed for the bounds of his studies. 
" I take good care," he says, " not to ascribe any intention to 
God, for I mistrust the feeble powers of my reason. I observe 
facts merely, and go no further. I only pretend to the character 
of the historian of what is. I cannot make nature an intelli- 
gent being who does nothing in vain." This is the frank avowal 

* The use of the phrase final cause, to express the end, purpose, or inten- 
tion for which a thing is made or done, has been so long established by 
philosophical writers, that it would savor of affectation to renounce it 
altogether. Yet as Mr. De Morgan remarks, to talk of final causes is as 
unintelligible to most persons as to talk of final beginnings. 

To understand the phrase, wo must remember that the word cause was 
used by the ancients in a very wide sense,corresponding to the causa of the 
Latins, the cosa of the Italians, and the chose of the French ; it signified the 
moMer or concern which is transacted, spoken, written, or contended about. 
To remove the indefiniteness arising from this comprehensive significa- 
tion, Aristotle properly distinguished four sorts of causes, (French, choses, 
English, things) ; he distinguished material, formal, efficient, and final (Latin, 
finis, English, end) causes. The material cause is the very matter out of 
which a thing is made, considered as the principle of its existence ; the 
formal cause is the internal constitution of a thing — that which makes it 
what it is ; the efficient cause corresponds to the English use of the word, 
as it signifies the maker or author of a thing, or that which really pro- 
duces it ; the final cause, as we have said, is the end or purpose for which 
it was made. To understand the difference between material and formal 

19 



218 THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN. 

of the skeptic who is willing to remain in his ignorance, even 
after the brilliant discoveries of Cuvier had shown the fruitful- 
ness of the opposite mode of inquiry. 

Physical events, as they appear to the theologian and the skeptic. 
— Still more striking and important is the change made in our- 
notions of the succession of events, by this doctrine of the con- 
stant presence and agency of the Supreme Being. The power 
that operates in nature is no longer unseen and undiscoverable ; 
physical occurrences do not follow each other by any inscrutable 
mechanism, or by a blind and unconscious fatality. In the 
countless aspects and ceaseless changes of the world without us, 
we no longer behold the fortuitous concourse of atoms, self- 
governed, yet bound one to another by inexorable necessity, 
and forming an adamantine chain, that is nowhere held up or 
sustained save by a dim abstraction, — where 

" Chaos umpire sits, 
And by decision more embroils the fray 
By which he reigns : next him, high arbiter, 
Chance governs all." 



causes, we must attend to the ancient distinction between the matter and 
the form of a thing ; this is admirably illustrated, as follows, by Mi- 
Thomson, in his Outline of the Laics of Thought, page 22. 

" A statue may be considered as consisting of two parts, the marble 
out of which it is hewn, which is its matter or stuff, and the form which 
the artist communicates. The latter is essential to the statue, but not 
the former, since the work might be the same, though the material were 
different ; but if the form were wanting, we could not even call the work a 
statue. This notion, of a material susceptible of a certain form, the 
accession of which shall give it a new nature and name, may be analogi- 
cally transferred to other natures. Space may be regarded as matter, and 
geometrical figures as the form impressed in it. The voice is the matter of 
speech, and articulation the form. But as it is the form which proxi- 
mately and obviously makes the thing what it is, (although there can be 
no form without matter,) the word form came to be interchanged with 
essence and with nature." 

We may explain the four sorts of causes thus. The material cause of 
the paper on which I am now writing, is the pulp of rags out of which 
it was made ; its formal cause is its peculiar texture and other proper- 
ties, which entitle it to the name of paper ; its efficient cause is the paper- 
maker ; its final cause is to be written upon. 



THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN. 219 

Mind resumes its dominion over the vast expanse, and drives 
these spectres back to their native realm of ignorance and 
eldest Night. Every event, from the blossoming of the tiniest 
flower up to the swift flight of the stars in their courses, 
becomes as intelligible to man as his own voluntary move- 
ments. The contest between mind and matter ceases ; spirit 
animates, moves, and governs all, with a beneficent and dis- 
coverable purpose, aa<i with infinite wisdom. The observation 
of the inherent laws of material atoms now becomes the study 
of the character, intentions, and will of Him who created the 
heavens and the earth, and laid the corner-stone thereof. 

Theology is the complement and extension of physical science. 
— The great truths of natural theology, then, not only rest upon 
the same proofs which support our conclusions in physical 
science, but they enter into that science as an integral portion 
of it, as its necessary complement and extension up to the 
farthest limits which are imposed upon it by the imperfection 
of our faculties. They are among the facts obtained from our 
observation of nature, or among the legitimate inferences 
which are drawn from those facts. They are a portion of the 
results derived from the strict application of the inductive 
method to the study of nature, and they are therefore properly 
recorded with the other conclusions of physical science, among 
its most valuable contributions to the sum of human knowledge. 
Certain marks and indentations in red sandstone are held to 
prove, beyond all question, the existence at some very remote 
period of a species of birds, of which not one bone or other 
fragment has ever been discovered, and which must have been 
wholly unlike any winged creature that now inhabits the earth 
or air. In like manner, certain arrangements and adaptations 
in the body of a living animal afford abundant indications of 
purpose and contrivance, and so prove the wisdom and good- 
ness of the great Cause that brought the animal into being. 
There is no difference between the inferences drawn in these 
two cases, except that the latter is the more simple, direct, and 
unquestionable ; it rests upon a more copious induction, and it is 
certainly more credible that a fortuitous conjunction of other 



220 THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN. 

circumstances should have caused certain marks or scratches 
on a rock, than that an unintelligent and undesigning power 
should have fashioned so delicate and complex an instrument 
as the human eye. It is as much the object and duty of science 
to note and record these indications of intellect and design, 
as to distinguish fossil remains from the mere inorganic rock in 
which they are imbedded. The mere description of the object 
or phenomenon is incomplete without them.* 

Physical science stops short of efficient causation. — So, also, 
if the study of nature, so far as it relates to the course of events, 
is mainly occupied with distinguishing invariable antecedents 
from those which are casual and temporary, it is concerned, 
also, to point out such antecedents as are really causal and 
necessary, and so invariable. The operation of efficient causes 
is even in a higher degree an object of rational inquiry and 
effort, than the succession of physical causes, provided always 
that the distinction between them be kept clearly in view, and 
the one class be not confounded with the other. Our own 
consciousness gives us a knowledge of one true cause, in the 
mastery of the human will over the body with which it is con- 
nected. As anthropology, or the science of man, would be 
incomplete without a discussion of this capital fact, so physical 



* Dr. Whewell remarks, that even the " physiologists who look with 
suspicion and dislike upon the introduction of Final Causes into physi- 
ology, have still been, unable to exclude from their speculations causes 
of this kind. Thus Bichat, after noting the difference between the or- 
ganic sensibility, by which the organs are made to perform their offices, 
and the animal sensibility, of which the nervous centre is the seat, says, 
' No doubt it will be asked why ' — that is, as we shall see, for what end — 
' the organs of internal life have received from nature an inferior degree 
of sensibility only, and why they do not transmit to the brain those impres- 
sions which they receive, while all the acts of the animal life imply this 
transmission ? The reason is simply this, that all the phenomena which 
establish our connections with surrounding objects ought to be, and are in 
fact, under the influence of the will; while all those which serve the purpose 
of assimilation only, escape, and ought indeed to escape, such influence ! 
The reason here assigned is the Final Cause, which, as Bichat justly 
says, we cannot help asking for." — Phil, of the Ind. Sci. Vol. II. p. 626. 



THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN. 221 

science, or the study of nature, is imperfect, and even baseless, 
if it stops short of the modes of operation of that single Power 
which sustains, animates, and governs all. The conclusions of 
the theological inquirer, therefore, in their lower aspect, form 
a part, a large constituent element, of the great body of scientific 
truth which man derives from a study of the material and the 
intellectual universe ; in their lower aspect, I say, for this fact 
would hardly merit notice, except from its relation to my pres- 
ent purpose, which is to show the nature of the evidence upon 
which these conclusions rest. 

The scientific value of theological truths inferior to their moral 
worth. — Our chief interest in these results does not depend 
merely on their scientific value, as additions to the sum of 
human knowledge, but on their religious bearing and their ap- 
plicability to the government of our hearts and lives. The 
truths thus far established lead us oj|ly to the opening of that 
great subject which stretches out over the whole field of our 
duties and hopes as intelligent, moral, and accountable beings. 
Though the discussion in this work has been strictly confined to 
the validity of the common argument for the being of a God. so 
far as this is affected by the metaphysical theories and specula- 
tions now most in vogue, and has thus only prepared the way for 
an inquiry into the whole system of Natural Religion, it has still 
conducted us to some results which are profitable for reflection 
and practice. " Of all habits of thinking, the most important to 
be cultivated is that of referring all the phenomena of nature 
up to their infinite Creator, and of regarding all events, whether 
physical or moral, as caused or governed by an ever-watchful 
and active Providence. To have made this the ruling, the 
habitual sentiment of our minds, is to have laid the foundation 
of every thing which is religious. The world thenceforth be- 
comes a temple, and life itself one continued act of adoration." 
The philosophical doctrine of the immediate agency of the Deity, 
is that which harmonizes most perfectly with the religious sen- 
timent in man, and gives most satisfaction and support to the 
devotional spirit. It strengthens the belief in revelation, as fhe 
course of all physical events is seen to be directed with a moral 

19* 



222 THE ARGUMENT FROM DESIGN. 

purpose ; and the blind domain of physical laws and material 
necessity being broken, a direct interposition of God in the 
affairs of men becomes not only credible, but natural, and what 
we should most readily expect from infinite goodness and wis- 
dom combined. We pass on, therefore, from the study of his 
works* to that of his word, not by an abrupt or violent transition, 
but gradually, and with a distinct recognition of the unity of his 
character, and of the similarity of plan by which lie governs the 
physical and moral universe, and proclaims his existence and 
i his will to the creatures whom he has made. 



SECOND PAET. 



CHAPTER I. 

THE HUMAN DISTINGUISHED FROM THE BRUTE MIND. 

Statement of the subject. — We have finished a brief view of 
the ordinary argument for the being of a God. But the 
establishment of this truth alone, though it is the central doc- 
trine of Natural Religion, and all the others depend upon it, still 
leaves us at the threshold of the subject. We have still to 
ascertain the character or attributes under which the Deity has 
manifested himself to mankind, and to learn if these are such as 
to create an obligation on our part to conform to his will. 
Obedience may be yielded either from involuntary awe, or blind 
submission to absolute and infinite power, or from veneration for 
perfect wisdom and holiness, and a mingled sentiment of duty, 
gratitude, and love. The prevalence of one or another of these 
motives will depend on the views which we may form of the 
Divine nature ; and the peculiarity of the dominant motive will 
modify and shape the whole religious character. 

It is but a part of the same inquiry to ask what the Divine 
will is, or what we are required to do, or to refrain from doing, 
from a regard to the relations in which we stand to God and 
jq our fellow man. Apart from direct revelation, with which 
at present we have nothing to do, the will of the Deity can be 

(223) 



224 THE NATURE OF INSTINCT. 

inferred only from a knowledge of his character, and this can 
be learned in no other way than by the study of his works. 
.His moral attributes, with which we are now chiefly concerned, 
are made known to us almost exclusively through the con- 
stitution of our own moral nature ; and accordingly, the study 
of this nature, or of the ethical constitution of man, must be our 
chief guide in the present inquiry. As the former Part related 
mainly to things physical, or to what is taught us of the being 
and agency of God by the phenomena of the outward universe, so, 
in the present discussion, the nature and functions of conscience, 
and the analysis of our sense of moral obligation, must enable 
us to frame our conceptions of religious duty. This will be the 
principal aim and tendency of the investigation ; incidentally, 
as before, we must seek for illustrations of the will and character 
of the Deity from the outward and visible things that he has 
made. 

Basis of the inquiry. — What was attempted to be proved in 
the former discussion will now be taken for granted ; and this 
includes, you will remember, not only the existence of God, but 
his incessant and omnipresent action in the universe. Both the 
creation of things and the direction of events are his ; the 
fashioning of our bodies, the constitution of our minds, and 
the endowment of our moral nature, are alike the effects of his 
wisdom and appointment ; and the reasoning from effect to 
cause, which was proved to be legitimate in the case already 
considered, must be applicable in all others. Even the attri- 
bute of freewill, in respect to which man alone is created in the 
likeness of his Maker, is his gift ; and the possession of it is an 
indication of his will that it should be exercised. We are free 
to choose between the evil and the good ; and this freedom pre- 
supposes opportunities for choice ; it requires that the alterna- 
tive should be presented to us, or it would be a delusion and a 
mockery. The promptings of conscience are as clear an indi- 
cation of the moral judgments of God, as the instincts of ani- 
mals, the processes of vegetable life, and the structure of the 
heavens are of his being and his power, In both cases, we 
reason from the thing that is created and finite to. t\\Q self-exist- 
ent and infinite Cause. 



THE NATURE OF INSTINCT. 225 

TJie study of human nature is our starting point. Among 
the works of creation, the study of which leads us up to a 
knowledge of the being and attributes of God, the foremost 
place is occupied by man himself. We are ourselves his off- 
spring, creatures whom he has endowed with a peculiar physi- 
cal, intellectual, and moral organization, the properties and 
tendencies of which reflect the character and purposes of our 
Maker, The marvellous structure of our bodies, these tene- 
ments of clay which we inhabit for a season, shows his wisdom, 
his constant agency, his designing care ; so also the constitution 
of our minds, the laws by which our sensations, ideas, and 
judgments are formed and made to succeed each other, are so 
many tokens of the Divine will and character. They show 
what part God intended we should act upon the theatre of the 
universe. Still further, in our moral nature, or the emotions 
that are excited in us by the sight of surrounding objects and 
events, and especially by the contemplation of our own acts, 
and of those of our fellow beings, we find our only means of 
knowing what the moral attributes of God are, and what, if 
any, is his scheme of moral government. Practically speaking, 
we are concerned to know, not so much what things are in 
themselves, as the manner in which we are affected by the sight 
of them, and by living in the midst of them. The fitness of 
objects to give pleasure to man depends equally on the charac- 
teristic qualities of those objects, and on the susceptibility of the 
human mind to pleasure of one kind rather than another, and 
indeed on its capacity of being pleased at all. 

The true end and aim of man's existence. — We com£, there- 
fore, to an examination of the nature and functions of con- 
science, as the first point of our inquiry. My object will be to 
show, that man is not merely an intellectual being, placed here on 
earth to satisfy his curiosity, and to provide for his own well- 
being. This would be a conceivable end of his creation, but it 
is notoriously not the real end. If he had the intellectual facul- 
ties of an archangel, and this earth were a paradise for his 
habitation, affording every object that could gratify his desires 
and promote his happiness, — if enjoyment brought no satiety, 



226 THE NATURE OF INSTINCT. 

and labor no fatigue, if his birth were only an introduction to 
active pleasure, and death were nothing but painless extinc- 
tion, — then we could easily attribute unlimited benevolence to 
his Creator, and consider that man's only purpose in life was to 
pass on from one phase of happiness to another. Why is it, 
that we do not regard this as the actual, or even as a desirable, 
plan of human existence ? It is only an obscure reference to 
such a scheme which lends any force, or indeed any meaning, 
to the oft-repeated complaints about the existence of evil under 
the government of a God of infinite benevolence. Yet when 
such a plan of life is presented for us to .contemplate at once 
in its entireness, we almost instinctively reject it, as not admit- 
ting the existence of those qualities which now constitute the 
true ornament and dignity of human nature, and as making no 
provision for their cultivation, even if they did exist. A more 
authoritative principle than self-love declares to us, that the 
practice of virtue is higher than the pursuit of enjoyment, that 
holiness is more desirable than happiness, and that the Divine 
government, in so far as it shows infinite justice and benevolence 
combined, and affords scope for progress and effort, as well as 
for the gratification of desires ending in self, is in truth the 
noblest conceivable expression of the wisdom and goodness of 
God. 

The contrast between man and the brute. — To prove this 
point, and to show by contrast the true nature of the moral 
faculty in man, I propose to go some way back, and to examine 
the only case within the sphere of human observation where in- 
tellectual are not combined with moral qualities, and where, con- 
sequently, enjoyment for the time ??ntst be regarded as the sole end 
of existence. I refer, of course, to the mental constitution of 
brutes, or of all orders of animated being which are inferior to 
man. The subject is confessedly an obscure one ; but I doubt 
not that enough of it may be made out with certainty to answer 
all the purposes of this discussion. If the investigation should 
lead to the establishment of a broad distinction between man 
and the brute, so as to show that the mental endowments of the 
latter differ from those of the former, nx)t in degree only, but in 



THE NATURE OF INSTINCT. 227 

kind, this will be a collateral advantage, which will help us to 
clear up some other difficulties in our subject. 

How far we can know the nature of brutes. — Let me limit 
the object and extent of the inquiry in the outset. With respect 
either to the human or the brute mind, we can only ask what it 
does ; it would be idle to inquire what it is, for we are ignorant 
of the inward nature, the essential constitution, of both. In 
the one case, it is true, we have the aid of consciousness, 
while in the other we are restricted to external observation. 
But why that unit of being which we call man, or mind, should 
have one set of powers and susceptibilities rather than another, 
is a question which mere physical or metaphysical science does 
not pretend to answer, otherwise than by saying, that such is 
the will of his Creator; the moralist or the theologian may 
here come in, and show the reasonableness of that will, but even 
he cannot tell how it is carried into effect. In the case of 
the brute, of course, we can only look at its outward acts, and 
thence dimly infer its peculiarities of mental organization. 

Now there is no action whatever, considered merely as a 
visible fact, as an exercise of nerves and muscles, which many 
brutes cannot perform nearly or quite as well as men. They 
walk, leap, run, and climb ; they eat, drink, and continue their 
species ; they weep, cry, and even articulate. From their out- 
ward acts alone, then, it seems impossible to deduce the charac- 
teristic feature of their mental nature. Luckily, a third ques- 
tion remains to us, the answer to which directly involves the 
subject of our present inquiry, while it appears to be within the 
reach of human investigation. In regard either to instinct or 
intelligence, though we cannot tell what it is, we may ascertain 
what it is not. As we affirm confidently that mind is not 
material, so we may find sure reason to believe that it is radi- 
cally different from instinct. And to establish this point is 
my first object. 

Instinct is not mechanism. — It is first necessary to deter- 
mine the meaning of the word instinct, or to ascertain what 
phenomena are properly considered as instinctive. Some 
writers speak of " physical instincts," among which they class 



228 THE NATURE OP INSTINCT. 

the beating of the heart, the movements of respiration, the 
peristaltic motion of the intestines, and the like. But as these 
motions are regular and involuntary, they are more properly 
regarded as automatic, or mechanical,* and are classed with the 
phenomena of organic life rather than with those of instinct, 
especially as operations corresponding to them, or exactly 
similar, are carried on in vegetables. The touch of an insect 
alighting on the common flower called Venuss Fly-trap causes 
its sides to spring forcibly together, so as to catch and hold the 
intruder, whose struggles only increase the pressure of this self- 
acting trap. Such movements resemble, not the actions of a 
bird in building its nest, but the motions of wheels which are 
dependent on the uncoiling of a spring or the falling of a 
weight. 

Reflex nervous action distinguished from instinct. — Recent 
discoveries in physiology have established the existence of what 
is called a reflex action in certain nerves, by which, without 
any sensation being communicated to the brain, and conse- 
quently without any effort of the will, an impression made upon 
the end of a nerve is transmitted to the spinal cord, and is 
thence sent back again, as it were, along one of the motor 
nerves to its extremity, producing there a contraction of the 
muscles, of which the required or appropriate movement of 
the limb or organ is the consequence. Isolate this pair of nerves 
entirely, by cutting off its communication, not only with the 
head, but with the upper and lower portions of the spinal 

* To avoid misconception, I may here mention, once for all, that I use 
the common phraseology that is founded on the mechanical theory of 
nature's operations, or the doctrine of secondary causes, but without de- 
mising the truth of that theory. In the former Part, I Endeavored to 
prove that all action or change in the purely material creation, must de 
attributed to the immediate agency of the Creator. Still, for the con- 
venience of speech, to avoid circumlocution and incessant reference to this 
doctrine, I continue to use the language that is sanctioned by universal 
custom, though it is derived from what seems to me a wholly unphilo- 
sophical and mistaken view of the operations of nature and the sphere of 
Divine action. It is easy to bear in mind the constant qualification, or 
protest, under which this phraseology is adopted. 



THE NATURE OF INSTINCT. 229 

column, reserving only a segment of this column to connect the 
excitor with the motor nerve, and the reflex movement may still 
be produced. A decapitated frog remains at rest till it is 
touched ; and then its leg, or even its whole body, is thrown 
into sudden but momentary action. Cases have occurred in 
which the spinal cord of a man was so far injured, by disease 
or accident, that there was no voluntary control of the lower 
limbs, and not even any sensation in them; but if stimuli 
were applied to the feet, by tickling or pinching them, or apply- 
ing a hot plate, the muscles of the leg instantly contracted, 
and with some violence ; and this without the patient having 
any sensation, either of the cause of the movement, or of the 
movement itself; in fact, without his knowing it. 

Of this nature is the action of swallowing, which is excited 
by the contact of food or liquid with the back part of the 
mouth, and then takes place in spite of any effort on our part 
to prevent it. " Even the respiratory movements," says Dr. 
Carpenter, " spontaneous as they seem to be, would not con- 
tinue unless they were excited by the presence of venous blood 
in the vessels, — especially in those of the lungs. These move- 
ments are all necessarily linked with the stimulus that excites 
them ; — that is, the same stimulus will always produce the same 
movement, when the condition of the body is the same. Hence 
it is evident, that the judgment or will is not concerned in pro- 
during them ; but they may be rather compared to the move- 
ments of an automaton, which are produced by touching cer- 
tain springs." * 



* As the reflex action of the nerves had not been discovered, I believe, 
when Dugald Stewart published (1826) the third volume of his Elements 
of tbc Philosophy of the Human Mind, he'has some excuse for maintain- 
ing that the operations, not only of suction and swallowing, but of res- 
piration, must be ascribed to instinct. But his doctrine now appears even 
less plausible than that of Dr. Darwin, who gravely supposes that the 
foetus learns to swallow by its experience in utero. Stewart mentions the 
fact, that thirty pairs of muscles must be employed in every draught, and 
seems to believe that a distinct volition is required for the movement of 
each pair ; though the well-known facts respecting the catenation of the 

20 



230 THE NATURE OF INSTINCT. 

The object of all such mechanical and involuntary motions is 
to supply the imperative wants of the body, and to preserve it 
from the injuries to which it is most frequently exposed. The 
watchfulness of the animal is not sufficient for its own preserva- 
tion ; the want of care, quickness, and decision in the control 
of the will is thus compensated by a mechanical contrivance, a 
spontaneous movement, which repels the danger, or satisfies the 
want, before we are conscious of its existence. A beautiful in- 
stance of this is the instantaneous and automatic movement of 
the eyelids, by which so delicate an organ as the eye is pre- 
served from sudden injury. The slightest stimulus causes them 
to close, even the flash of powder having this effect before the 
flame can reach the eyeball. It would be an abuse of language 
to apply the same name to a contrivance like this, and to the 
marvellous instinct that guides the migrating bird, at the proper 
season, in its long flight to its winter home. 

Instinct distinguished from the appetites. — Besides these 
mechanical operations, or organic functions of life, which are 
common to the animal and vegetable kingdom, though they are 
more numerous and more complex in the former, I exclude the 
simple appetites and passions from the class of instincts properly 
so called. These appetites have been called instinctive, because 
they seek their own gratification without the aid of reason, and 
often in spite of it. They are common to man and the brute ; 
but they differ, at least in one important respect, from those 
instincts of the lower animals which are usually contrasted with 
human reason. The objects towards which they are directed 
are prized for their own sake ; they are sought as ends, while 



muscular actions might have convinced him of the absurdity of such a 
theory. His naive astonishment, that an infant, as soon as it comes into 
the world, should know how to " perform with the most perfect success the 
function of respiration, — a function which requh'es the alternate contrac- 
tion and relaxation of certain muscles in a regular order and succession," 
— is certainly an amusing instance of this weakness. He might just as 
well have been surprised that it should know how to keep up the circulation 
of the blood in its tender limbs ; for the will of the infant has certainly as 
much to do in this case as in that of respiration. 



THE NATURE OF INSTINCT. 231 

instinct teaches brutes to do many things which are needed only 
as means for the attainment of some ulterior purpose. Thus, 
instinct enables a spider to entrap his prey, while appetite only 
leads him to devour it while in his possession. Nay, the two 
impulses often act in opposition to each other, as when the bird 
restrains its own hunger for the sake of feeding its young. 
Appetite is blind and affords a motive, but no guidance, for 
effort ; instinct, on the other hand, often supplies an object for 
action, though it is more frequently indebted for this to appetite, 
and always points out the course for its attainment. It is true, 
that appetite sometimes appears to direct the choice ; yet so far 
only as the absence or presence of it leads the animal to reject 
unsuitable food, and to devour that which is adapted to its 
physical constitution. That a dog will not eat hay, nor a horse 
swallow raw meat, is no more a proof of instinct than the cor- 
responding fact in man, that sweet things are pleasant to the 
taste, while bitter are disagreeable, is an indication of reason. 

It is evident that the appetites have been called instinctive, 
only because they are not acquired by experience or instruction ; 
they are innate. But this is far from being the only character- 
istic of what are usually termed the instincts of the lower ani- 
mals, which often lead to complex and prolonged tasks, involving 
a constant sacrifice of their natural desires and inclinations. 
Instinct is marvellous and inscrutable in its operations, as much 
so as reason itself. But that the appetites have their appro- 
priate objects, and reject all others, is no special cause for 
wonder, any more than the fact, that glass transmits light, while 
it is impervious to air. Such is its original constitution. 

Definition of instinct. — How may we define instinct, then, 
as distinguished from appetite on the one hand, and from reason 
on the other, as all three are motives or guides to action ? It 
is an impulse conceived without instruction, and prior to all ex- 
perience, to perform certain acts which are not needed for the 
immediate gratification of the agent, which in fact are often op- 
posed to it, and are useful only as means for the attainment of 
some ulterior object ; and this object is usually one of preemi- 
nent utility or necessity, either for the preservation of the ani- 



232 THE NATURE OF INSTINCT. 

mal's own life, or for the continuance of its species. The for- 
mer quality separates it from intelligence, properly so called, 
which proceeds only by experience or instruction ; and the lat- 
ter is its peculiar trait as distinguished from appetite, which, in 
strictness, uses no means at all, but looks only to ends.* 

In the remainder of what I have to offer, it will be my object 
to show, first, that instinct is distinguishable from reason by 
many other peculiarities, which are so obvious and striking, 
that we must admit the difference between the two attributes to 
be radical or essential, — a difference not in degree, but in kind ; 
secondly, that all animals inferior to man are guided in a greater 
or less degree, if not entirely, by instinct, while man is never 
subject to it, but is governed exclusively by reason, — the 
effects of mechanical contrivances, and of mere appetites, or 
blind desires and inclinations, which are confessedly common to 
man and the brute, having been set aside for reasons already 
mentioned ; and thirdly, that the lower animals, because their 
highest attribute is instinct, have no moral character whatever, 
and consequently do not merit praise or blame, — so that their 
actions, and the scheme or plan of their existence, show us what 

* "All those acts of animals are instinctive which, though performed 
voluntarily, do not depend primarily on the mere will of the animal ; they 
have an object according with the wants of the organism, but this object is 
unknown to the animal ; the hidden cause incites the brute to the neces- 
sary acts, by presenting to it the ' theme ' of the voluntary movements to 
be executed in detail by the influence of the will. "We are ourselves con- 
scious only of feelings and impulses to determinate acts. The number of 
instinctive acts is great in animals in proportion to their incapability of 
accomplishing by their own mental powers the design for which their spe- 
cies was created." — Midler's Physiology, p. 946. 

Hence, as Dr. Holland remarks, the two great faculties of reason and 
instinct exist in an inverse ratio to each other. " In man, instincts, prop- 
ei-ly so called, form the minimum in relation to reason. They multiply 
continually, and become more distinct in character, as we descend in the 
scale ; their completeness in reference to the life of the individual, increas- 
ing in the same ratio as the intelligence becomes less." He adds, " as a 
further proof of the inverse perfection of intellect and instinct, that the 
class of insects, in whom these instinctive functions are most strikingly 
manifested, appears to rank very low in the scale of intelligence." 



THE NATURE OP INSTINCT. 2d3 

man would be, if he was deprived of the ethical part of his 
nature, and thus, in the higher meaning of the phrase, not sub- 
ject to the moral government of God. The general conclusion 
will be, that the animal as well as the vegetable creation, like 
inorganic things, and the course of merely physical events, are 
not ends in the Divine government, but means, the leading pur- 
pose of all being the moral education and government of man. 

Instinct acts without instruction or experience. — And first, it 
will not be necessary to use many words to prove that instinct, 
unlike reason, acts without instruction or experience. Chick- 
ens hatched by steam, which have never seen any older birds 
of the same species, perform all the duties of incubation and 
feeding their young as perfectly as if they had been the con- 
stant objects of Dame Partlet's care in their own callow in- 
fancy. Insects born only after the death of their parents still 
run the little cycle of their appointed tasks, and make provision 
for their own future progeny, which they are never to see, with 
as much labor and foresight as were exercised in preparing and 
storing their own cradles. The moth, with great care, collects 
food of a kind which it never uses for itself, as a provision for 
its young, when in a transition state. Certain insects, govern- 
ing for the moment their own appetites, which would lead them 
to devour their food as soon as found, store up in subterranean 
cells a provision for the coming winter, though as yet, in their 
short life, they have experienced only the warmth and abun- 
dance of summer and autumn. In all these cases, there is no 
opportunity for experience, and no source of instruction ; and 
the end attained is one that is essential for the preservation of 
the species. 

" Who bid the stork, Columbus-like, explore 
Heavens not his own, and worlds not known before ? 
Who calls the councils, states the certain day ? 
Who forms the phalanx, and who points the way 3 " 

Instinct not susceptible of improvement. — The next peculi- 
arity of instinct, a necessary consequence of the one already 
noticed, is, that it is not susceptible of improvement or educa- 
tion. It is complete from the beginning ; it makes no progress 

20* 



234 THE NATURE OF INSTINCT. 

either in the individual or the race. The bee, as soon after its 
disclosure from the pupa as its body is dried and its wings ex- 
panded, takes its part in the labors of the little commonwealth 
with as much apparent activity and efficiency as its elders. It 
collects honey and builds a cell as adroitly in the first, as in the 
last, hour of its existence. And so it is with the species ; the 
internal economy of a hive was just as marvellous in the days 
of Aristotle and Virgil, as in those of Huber. The reported 
cases of greater docility shown by the offspring of trained ani- 
mals, than by the young of the same species when in their wild 
state, can all be explained from the fact, that most quadrupeds 
and birds are more or less prone to imitate the habits of those 
around them, so that they become more teachable by observ- 
ing, from the moment of birth, the movements of the elder ani- 
mals. 

Instinct within its sphere transcends reason. — It is impor- 
tant to observe that the power of instinct, in many cases, quite 
transcends that of reason ; if it differs from human intelligence, 
not in kind, but in degree only, it is undoubtedly the superior. 
Man may go to school to the dog, the swallow, and the bee, but 
he can never equal his teacher. Let him attempt, for instance, 
without the aid of any tools or machinery, and with the utmost 
economy of space and material, to construct a symmetrical hex- 
agonal cell, closed at one end by a trihedral pyramid, each side 
of which is a rhombus, with its obtuse angles measuring pre- 
cisely 109° 28', and its acute angles 70° 32'. Without instru- 
ments or a pattern, he probably could not cut out such a rhom- 
bus with perfect accuracy after a thousand trials. But the bee 
does this before it is a day old. And in this statement of the 
task, the greatest difficulty of all is left out of it; we have 
solved the most abstruse problem in it, in order to make the 
performance more easy. In order to make the cell with as lit- 
tle wax and space as possible, it is necessary that the angles of 
the rhombus should have precisely these dimensions, and no 
other. It was only after the invention of the integral calculus 
that man was able to determine the angles required for this pur- 
pose, or, in other words, to discover how far the wisdom of the 



THE NATURE OF INSTINCT. 

bee transcends his own. In Virgil's time, the bee was wiser 
than the greatest human mathematician of its day. 

Those who are familiar with the habits of animals can pro- 
duce a multitude of other instances to show the vast superiority 
of instinct, in its proper and limited sphere, over the best efforts 
of hmnan reason ; especially when we make the proper qualifi- 
cation, that the animal usually works without instruments of 
any kind, except those furnished in its own body, which affords 
nothing to be compared, in point of convenience, with the human 
hand. But I give one other case, which needs not this qualifi- 
cation ; it is found in the explanation of the proverbial phrase, 
"a bee line." Remove a man blindfold several miles from 
his home, by a route with which he is entirely unacquainted, 
and require him to return to his own door by a mathematically 
straight hue. The bee will do so ; but a man's path under 
such circumstances would probably be rather crooked. And 
the difference between them cannot be explained on the sup- 
position of the insect's greater sharpness of vision, or by the 
greater elevation at which it flies ; let the hive be in the midst 
of a forest, so that the intervening trees hide it when one is a 
rod off in any direction, and the bee still flies straight to its 
home. 

" But honest Instinct comes, a volunteer," 
Sure never to o'ershoot, but just to hit ; 
While still too wide, or short, is human wit." 

Instinct works in a narrow sphere. — The consideration of 
this manifest preeminence of instinct, in its limited sphere, over 
reason, was necessary, in order to put in a proper light the next 
peculiarity of it which I have to notice, and which certainly 
divides it by a very broad line from any thing in the mental 
constitution of man. Instinct is limited to a very few ends, 
mostly to those which are essential to the preservation of the 
animal itself, or of its species. It works in a prescribed and 
narrow path, to accomplish these purposes and no others ; its 
methods are invariable, or nearly so, its power of adapting it- 
self to circumstances being confined within a very narrow range. 
Take the animal out of its sphere, and its mental endowments 



236 THE NATURE OF INSTINCT. 

cease to be even comparable with those of man. It falls infi- 
nitely far below him. The bee, which in certain tasks seems 
wiser than a Euclid or an Arkwright, is, when compelled to 
labor for any other purpose than that for which nature has spe- 
cifically adapted it, more stupid than an idiot. If one acciden- 
tally flies into a room through the lower half of an open window, 
and, seeking to return, happens to strike against the glass above, 
it will continue buzzing about and knocking its head against the 
same pane oftentimes for an hour, though it would find free 
egress a few inches below. 

Instinct does not adapt itself to circumstances. — Again, the 
instinct often continues to act when the occasion for its exercise 
has ceased, so that its operations are unmeaning and purpose- 
less. Thus, a squirrel, imprisoned in a wire cage, if it has re- 
ceived more nuts than its appetite craves for the moment, will 
scratch diligently at the bottom of its cage, and then place a 
nut upon the spot ; — in this way showing the continuance of 
the instinct which was needed only in its wild state, and its 
utter ignorance of the effect of a change of circumstances. A 
still more curious instance is that of the beaver, whose instincts 
seem more closely than those of any other animal to simulate 
human reason. " The building instinct," says Dr. Carpenter, 
" shows itself even when the beaver is in captivity, and in cir- 
cumstances in which it can be of no use. A half-domesticated 
individual, in the possession of Mr. Broderip, began to build as 
soon as it was let out of its cage, and materials were placed in 
its way. Even when it was only half-grown, it would drag 
along a large sweeping-brush, or warming-pan, grasping the 
handle with its teeth, so that the load came over its shoulder ; 
and would endeavor to lay tins with other materials, hi the 
mode employed by the beaver when in a state of nature. The 
long and large materials were always taken first ; and two of 
the longest were generally laid crosswise, with one of the ends 
of each touching the wall, and the other ends projecting out into 
the room. The area formed by the cross brushes and the wall 
he would fill up with boots, books, sticks, dried turf, or any thing 
portable. He would often, after laying on one of his building 



THE NATURE OF INSTINCT. 237 

materials, sit up over against it, appearing to consider his work, 
or, as the country people say, to 'judge it'; this pause was 
sometimes followed by changing the material judged, and some- 
times it was left in its place. After he had piled up his mate- 
rials in one part of the room, for he generally chose the same 
place, he proceeded to wall up the space between the feet of a 
chest of drawers which stood at a little distance from it, high 
enough on its legs to make the bottom a roof for him ; using for 
this purpose dried turf and sticks, which he laid very even, and 
filling up the interstices with bits of coal, hay, cloth, or any 
thing he could pick up. This last place he seemed to appro- 
priate for his dwelling ; the former work seemed to be intended 
for a dam." 

" Other animals are, in like manner, occasionally conducted 
by their instincts to the performance of actions equally irrational, 
and quite incapable of answering the purpose which the partic- 
ular instinct is destined to serve." In all that goes beyond the 
sensations of the present moment, in every thing that relates to 
the future, and therefore requires the use of means, which in a 
human being would imply sagacity and foresight, the several 
classes of brutes do one thing in only one way. Following that 
narrow path, they appear like prodigies of wisdom; remove 
them ever so little from it, and they again become — brutes. 
In this respect, the parallel between the human and the brute 
mind fails entirely ; instinct is no longer to be compared with 
reason, but with a machine. The analogy here is perfect ; a 
jenny or a mule can spin yarn much better than man could with 
the aid only of his lingers ; but it cannot card, weave, or dress ; 
it can do nothing but spin. A machine performs a single task, 
usually with wonderful speed, neatness, and precision ; but its 
utility is limited to this single purpose. So a bee constructs its 
combs with admirable art ; but it cannot build a hive, or house 
for these combs. It cannot fashion a paper house, like the 
wasp, or dig subterranean chambers for its home, like the ant. 
But the pliability of the human mind, its power of adapting 
itself to circumstances, is one of its most marvellous attributes. 
Sagacity shown in one case is a good test of general ability for 



238 THE NATURE OF INSTINCT. 

all occasions. Increased facility in performing particular tasks 
is acquired by habit ; but the mind is master also of its habits, 
forming or destroying them at pleasure. 

Instinct capable of a few adjustments. — I do not say that in- 
stinct is the action of a machine, but only that it resembles this 
action more nearly than it does the curious, flexible, and far- 
reaching operations of reason. In one respect, it is like a cun- 
ningly devised engine which admits of several adjustments, so 
that, though it still performs but one kind of work, it allows of a 
few variations in its pattern and fabric. These variations are lim- 
ited in extent, and never amount to a change of the main ob- 
jects in view ; but if accident, or man's device, interferes with 
the animal's ordinary mode of attaining that object, it will often 
slightly modify the operation, so as to get rid of the difficulty.* 



* Sometimes it is essential for the purpose which the particular instinct 
is designed to answer, that there should be a certain degree of flexibility 
in that instinct. Thus, a certain kind of spider always spins a circular 
web, and must therefore have the power of affixing threads of different 
lengths to different portions of the circumference, wherewith to attach the 
web to the variously shaped openings in a wall, or among the branches of 
a tree or shrub, within which the web is to be supported. The marvellous 
power of instinct is often strikingly shown in the different expedients 
which this spider uses, to attach the web to the supports in its neighbor- 
hood with the greatest economy of labor and material. I once saw such a 
web, not more than six inches in diameter, which the spider had, placed in 
one of the upper corners of an opening, about three feet long and two feet 
high, in the wall of a shed. Half of the circumference, it was obvious, was 
easily supported by prolonging a few of the radii a short distance, till they 
met the two nearest sides of the opening in the angle of which the web 
hung. But how was the opposite semi-circumference held up, without ex- 
tending its radii two or three feet, to meet the two further sides of the 
opening ? Single threads of this great length would be very apt to be 
broken, and could hardly be hauled taut enough to give the requisite stiff- 
ness to the fabric. On looking nearer to the web, however, I found that 
the instinct of the spider had hit upon an expedient which had not at first 
occurred to me. It had spun a stout thread diagonally across the angle 
within which the web was hung, in the direction of a tangent to the outer 
semi-circumference, and distant only an inch or two from the nearest point 
of that circumference. Two or three guys, also, were attached to different 
points of this diagonal thread, whence being carried to the adjacent sides 



THE NATURE OF INSTINCT. 239 

Though walking in a narrow path, it can still turn aside a little 
to the right or the left, so as to avoid an obstruction in the way. 
Honey-bees can alter their work just enough to avoid what 
may be termed the ordinary casualties of the hive. When ex- 
traordinary disorders in the combs take place, Huber tells us 
that they pull the grubs out of the cells to perish, demolish the 
structure, and begin anew.* 

Instinct compared with habit. — Instincts have sometimes 
been called innate habits, and the parallel thus indicated ap- 
pears a very just and striking one. Cuvier long ago remarked, 
that animals guided by instinct appear, like a man in a dream, 



of the opening, and hauled taut, they served to stiffen that diagonal. 
Thus the circular web was inscribed in a triangle of the most convenient 
size, two sides of which were formed by the angle of the opening in the 
wall, while this ingeniously stiffened diagonal thread formed the third side. 
Any observer, by examining closely some of these circular webs, which he 
may find in any garden or neglected outhouse, will find various and 
equally ingenious expedients adopted to fasten it firmly, and with the 
greatest economy of material, to the nearest supports. 

"We have here, also, a good illustration both of an instinct's pliability 
within a certain range, and of its fixedness for every thing which lies be- 
vond that range. The expedients for supporting a circular web must be 
almost infinitely varied, according to the exigencies of the locality where 
it is placed. But why does not this spider ever spin a triangular web, or 
one of any other form, as other spiders do, and thus avoid all trouble in 
suspending it in any place "? 

* " Bees cemented their combs, when becoming heavy, to the top of the 
hive with mitys, in the time of Aristotle and Pliny, as they do now ; and 
there is every reason to believe that then, as now, they occasionally varied 
their procedures, by securing them with wax or with propolis only, either 
added to the upper range of cells, or disposed in braces and ties to the ad- 
joining combs. But if, in thus proceeding, they were guided by reason, 
why not, under certain circumstances, adopt other modes of strengthening 
their combs 1 Why not, when wax and propolis are scarce, employ mad, 
which they might see the martin avail herself of so successfully ? Or why 
should it not come into the head of some hoary denizen of the hive, that a 
little of the mortar with which his careful master plasters the crevices be- 
tween his habitation and its stand, might answer the end of mitys 1 ' Si 
seulement ils e'levoient unefois des cabanes quarries,' says Bonnet, when speak- 
ing as to what faculty the works of the beaver arc to be referred ; ' mais 
ce sont (ff.ernellemcnt des cabanes rondes ou ovales.' " — Kitty and Spcnce. 



240 THE NATURE OF INSTINCT. 

to be haunted by one idea, or, like a somnambulist, to perform 
a very difficult task without being conscious of it. In the 
human mind, frequent repetition appears to unite the parts of 
a long and complex mental process into one whole, so that the 
several required volitions follow each other with as much order 
and facility as if they were links of the same chain. There is 
no delay in order to dwell on any part of the operation, and 
consider what is to be done next. The needful step is sug- 
gested precisely -at the right moment, and instantly performed, 
so that no effort of the will seems to have been necessary, and 
we say that the whole was done unconsciously. Thus, an ab- 
sent-minded man may undertake a long walk by a familiar path, 
his mind being occupied all the while with some knotty subject 
of thought, which has nothing to do with the cause of his excur- 
sion ; and he arrives safely at the desired point, without being 
aware of the bodily exertion he has made, or of having attended 
to any object on the road, or to a single incident of the journey. 
There may have been several diverging routes, and he always 
selected the right path, without being aware that he exercised 
a choice. At each step, a distinct volition was required to lift 
his foot from the ground ; but he was not conscious of any ex- 
ertion either of the will or the body. It seems as if there was 
a latent idea in Ins mind, never rising into the sphere of con- 
sciousness, which still governed every motion of the will, and 
brought out the desired result at last, though the man himself 
was as ignorant of the process as if he had been a mere ma- 
chine.* 



=* " The effect of habit," says Dr. Holland, " in giving an automatic 
character, almost like an instinct, to certain groups of muscular actions — 
as in speaking, walking, and the other numerous and complex movements 
of the limbs — is absolutely necessary to human existence, and admirably 
suited to this necessity." In comparing Habits with Instincts, he after- 
wards observes, an essential point is their respective relation to the Will. 
Instinct at first is independent of the Will, though afterwards often modi- 
fied by it ; on the other hand, the actions which were at first entirely con- 
trolled by the Will, as they become habitual, gradually lose this depen- 
dence, and at last seem wholly involuntary. " It is well worthy of note, 



THE NATURE OF INSTINCT. 241 

Iasthict is unconscious of the ends it subserves. — Now the 
bee, in constructing a comb, works lixke a somnambulist, or like 
this person laboring under absence of mind. It reflects not 
upon the object of its labors ; for having had the experience but 
of one season, or perhaps of one day, it knows not what that 
object is. Foresight it has not, unless it be the foresight of a 
god rather than a man ; for human foresight is nothing but the 
reflection of past scenes upon the mirror of the future. 

" The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day, 
Had he thy reason, would he skip and play ? 
Pleased to the last, he crops the flowery food, 
And licks the hand just raised to shed his blood." 

It is not conscious of design or contrivance; for this implies 
preconceived ideas of ends not yet realized, and such ideas, we 
have seen, it cannot possess. The bee toils on just as uncon- 
sciously as the man moves his limbs in that dreamy walk ; there 
is a purpose, a useful end, to be obtained by the exertion ; but 
neither of them is aware of it at the moment. In the man, in- 
deed, the purpose was preconceived, and will come back to his 
mind at the end of the walk. The bee knows nothing of a pur- 
pose, but toils on as an humble instrument in the hands of an- 
other. Its vocation is that only of the common laborer, to bring 
bricks and mortar for the construction of those wonderful cells 
whose real Maker and Architect is Divine, and who appears, in 
this instance at least, if not in every other, constantly superin- 
tending and controlling his own works. 

" Esse apibus partem divinse mentis, et hanstus 
iEtherios, dixere ; deum nam que ire per omnes 
Terrasque, tractusque maris, coelumque profundum : 
Hinc pecudes, armenta, viros, genus omne ferarum, 
Quemque sibi tenues nascentem arcessere vitas." 

how closely the results continually approach to each other, though thus 
remote, and even opposite, in their source," " The closest approxima- 
tion of Habits and Instincts is undoubtedly shown in the tendency of the 
former to become hereditary — a fact variously proved both as to bodily 
and mental habits ; and equally curious and important in reference to the 
whole economy of animal life." — Mental Physiology, pp. 223, 224. 

21 



24:2 THE NATURE OF INSTINCT. 

And here we see an obvious reason why the instincts *of ani- 
mals are not susceptible of education or improvement. The 
operation that is continued from the mere force of habit, will 
never be improved. If the pedestrian suddenly quickens or 
slackens his pace, it is a sure sign that he has begun to think 
about the object of his journey. So a practised musician may 
play a familiar tune, without appearing to bestow any attention 
upon it, — merely from habit. But he will make no progress 
in his art by such exercise. In order to improve, he must 
pause and dwell upon the process, note the defects in his execu- 
tion, and by distinct and conscious effort try to remove them. 
The brutes, also, acting under their instincts, as men do when 
guided only by habit, ignorant of the objects of their toil, and 
therefore never reflecting upon the best means of obtaining 
those objects, perform their last labor precisely like their first. 
Their physical powers improve as they grow to maturity ; but 
their modes of operation are never altered. 

Instinctive distinguished from imitative acts. — I say nothing 
of the feats which animals may be trained by man to accom- 
plish, because these may all be traced to the blind and uncon- 
scious faculty of imitation or mimicry, and to the continued 
association of reward or punishment with certain actions. An 
animal blindly repeats some movement which a man performs 
only from a perception of its true meaning and purpose ; we 
must not therefore attribute such a perception to the brute. 
Parrots may be taught to articulate ; but they do not thereby 
learn to talk. A monkey, in a painter's studio, will seize his 
brush, and cover the walls of the room with unmeaning scrawls ; 
it imitates the physical act of the painter, but without any 
glimpse of its intention and real character. The teachableness 
of the different classes of animals seems to depend on the com- 
parative strength of this imitative propensity ; and as many of 
the exhibitions of this propensity, even in man, are blind and 
purposeless, we may reasonably conclude that they are always 
so in the brute. 

The acquired habits of domesticated animals mostly override 
and conceal their natural inclinations, so that they do not seem 



THE NATURE OF INSTINCT. 243 

to possess as many or as striking instincts, as some wild brutes 
which are certainly inferior to them in the scale of being. 
Many of these instincts, also, are of a social character, and 
therefore can be manifested only when the individual is in the 
wild herd with its fellows. But, in one degree or another, in- 
stinct is displayed by all the animals inferior to man. We find 
the plainest marks of it precisely where we should expect, 
among the means provided for the continuation of the species. 
What directs the young colt, or the calf, at once, to the only 
proper source of its nourishment ? or why does it not attempt to 
crop the herbage for food, like its dam ? The stratagems used 
by wild beasts to ensnare their prey must all be attributed to 
instinct, as each species uses but one or two forms of such arti- 
fice, and shows little or no power of adapting them to circum- 
stances. How many other instincts are naturally conjoined 
with these, it is impossible to tell, as they are freely manifested 
only in the wild state, and are concealed by artificial habits 
when they are subject to the care and observation of man.* 

Instinct teaches the brutes how to see. — In one respect, indeed, 
all animals are admirably fitted for the exigencies of their 
situation immediately after birth, while the human infant is left 
to the slow inductions of experience under the guidance of its 
elders. Man's first step in education is to acquire the use of 
his own eyes, or to learn how to see. It is a fact now firmly 
established, both by a, priori reasoning and observation, that the 
eye directly sees nothing but colors, and cannot perceive imme- 
diately either distance, figure, dimension, or situation. Colors 



* " Wherever there is organization, even under the simplest form, there 
we are sure to find instinctive action, more or less in amount, destined to 
give the appropriate effect to it. This is true throughout every part of the 
animal series, from Man and the Quadrumana down to the lowest forms 
of infusorial life. When we consider how vast this scale is — crowded 
with more than a hundred thousand recognized species, exclusively of those 
which fossil geology has disclosed to us — we may well be amazed by this 
profuse variety of* instinctive action, as multiplied in kind as are the organic 
forms with which it is associated, and all derived from one common 
Power." — Holland's MentaY Physiology, p. 206. 



244 THE NATURE OF INSTINCT. 

are the only visible things, just as sounds alone are audible ; 
experience teaches us, from slight variations or peculiarities of 
these, to infer the distance, magnitude, and other tangible quali- 
ties of the objects which possess or emit them. This fact has 
been demonstrated by experiments on persons born blind and 
subsequently restored to sight, and may be confirmed by watch- 
ing the movements of an infant soon after birth. Place some 
bright or gayly colored toy before its eyes, and its looks and 
movements instantly betray its desire to grasp it ; and if the 
object be actually placed in its hands, it will hold it firmly, and 
seem unwilling to relinquish it ; but hold it a little way off, and 
the hands grope for it seemingly at random, or so as to show 
the infant's entire ignorance of its true distance and position. 
If its bungling attempts be attributed in part to ignorance of 
the right mode of using its arms and limbs, this only places in 
a stronger light its inferiority for the time to the young brute. 
In a beautiful experiment made by Galen, a kid, just snatched 
from the matrix of its dead mother, used its limbs at once with 
perfect facility and success, and with the characteristic movements 
of its species. Like the newly born colt or calf, also, it walked 
with freedom, inspected objects near at hand, and avoided those 
which were in its way, — not, as in the case of man, with an 
acquired judgment, but from an instinctive knowledge of their 
true position. 

Man has no instincts properly so called. — Now, if in so im- 
portant a respect as the use of his eyes, on which man is 
dependent for safety at almost every moment of his existence, 
while by their aid alone his other faculties attain their full 
development, — if on this cardinal point, man is left entirely to 
the slow deductions of experience, we may well believe that, in 
no other respect, with him, is instinct made to supersede the use 
of reason. We are led to conclude, then, not only that all the 
lower animals are copiously endowed with instincts, but that 
man is absolutely devoid of them, and is left to be guided by 
reason alone. The utter helplessness of the human infant, 
when compared with the young of other animals, appears in 
nothing so strongly as in its inability td*see, even when the eyes 



THE NATURE OF INSTINCT. 245 

are opened, and their physical structure is perfect. In fact, 
there is no instance commonly adduced to prove that man is 
ever governed by instinct, except the first mode in which he 
receives food ; and even this is admitted to be, at most, but a 
transient instinct, given to provide for his safety in the first 
helpless hours of his existence. It is very doubtful, however, 
whether even this temporary impulse can properly be called 
instinctive. Recurring to the definition already given, is it cer- 
tain that this is an instance of action not ' pleasurable in itself 
alone, but useful only as a means for some ulterior object? 
That mere muscular exertion is pleasant in itself, is evident 
enough to one who observes the uneasiness of infants, and the 
strange gymnastic experiments of children of a little larger 
growth. If a small object be placed in the hand of an infant, 
its little fingers readily close around it, apparently from the 
mere pleasure of calling the muscles into activity. The sphinc- 
ter muscle of the mouth may do the same, when any object 
comes within its grasp ; and then the child needs but a single 
inspiration, which automatically recurs at every instant, in order 
to have its first pleasant experience of the gratification of appe- 
tite. When this pleasure has been a few times repeated, the 
habit, aided by the uneasiness of hunger, becomes so strong, 
though at the same time so blind, because the intellect is as yet 
not at all developed, that the infant eagerly sucks every object 
presented to its mouth. It is this eagerness, manifested at so 
early a period, which has led most observers to consider the 
action as instinctive. But Dr. Carpenter, an eminent physi- 
ologist, expressly refers this act of suction to the reflex func- 
tion of the nerves, thus considering it to be as mechanical as 
the shutting of the eyelid, or the beating of the heart ; for in- 
fants that have been born destitute of brain, and have lived for 
some hours, and other animals' young whose brain had been 
removed, have readily sucked a moistened finger, when intro- 
duced between their lips. Dr. Henry Holland, also, who is 
high authority on such a subject, observes that " the first suck- 
ing of the infant is probably a simple reflex action, following an 
impression on the nerves of sense." 
21* 



246 THE NATURE OE INSTINCT. 

It has now been conclusively shown, if I mistake not, that a 
class of phenomena are manifested by the lower animals, which 
may be as sharply distinguished from the effects of human rea- 
son, on the one hand, as from those of appetite and natural 
desire, on the other ; and these phenomena are attributed to a 
power which we call instinct. Give it any other name, and it 
will answer the purpose equally well. All the lower animals 
manifest it ; man never does ; — these are the only propositions 
with which we *are now concerned. All the actions of man, 
which have been loosely considered or described as instinctive, 
may be referred either to the powers of organic life, — that is, 
to mechanical forces, — or to the teachings of experience, or to 
the class of appetites. Human nature shows no trace whatever 
of that marvellous power which governs the bee in the con- 
struction of its cell, and guides the migrating bird to its winter 
home. But man is the only being who is not under its influence ; 
every other animal, from the noblest quadruped to the humblest 
insect, gives frequent indications of its presence and control. 

Instinct probably never united with reason. — So numerous 
and striking, indeed, are the manifestations of it by every 
species, that there appears good reason to doubt whether it is 
ever mingled, even in them, with what is properly called intel- 
lect ; whether all the reputed cases of sagacity and intelligence 
in the higher animals may not be referred, after all, into a mere 
blind propensity to imitate actions, the meaning and -purpose of 
which they cannot understand, or into an instinct more flexible 
and varied, indeed, than that of the lower tribes, but which is 
still seen to be radically different from reason. Without enter- 
ing into this difficult discussion, I will merely allude to the 
striking improbability of the lower animals being endowed with 
reason, which they need to exercise only on infrequent and ex- 
traordinary emergencies, while all the ordinary occasions of their 
being — their wants, dangers, and the continuation of their 
species — are provided for by the lower attributes with which 
they are specially endowed. These certainly suffice for the 
most wonderful works that are performed by them ; the whole 
insect tribe unquestionably knows no other guide than instinct ; 



THE NATURE OF INSTINCT. 247 

and if this power be enough to account for the actions of the 
ant and the bee, we hardly need seek any other key to the sup- 
posed sagacity of the dog and the elephant, as they also possess 
it, and it governs nearly all their conduct. 

But the negative on the other side is more easily supported, 
and by direct evidence. However it may be with the brute, 
reason is not united with instinct (properly so called) in man. 
The human intellect is pure and unmixed. It may be obscured 
by appetite, or stormed by passion ; habit may render its opera- 
tions so swift and easy, that we cannot note and remember their 
succession. But when free from these disturbing forces, it acts 
always with a full perception of the end in view, and by a 
deliberate choice of means aims at its accomplishment. We 
have the immediate testimony of consciousness, that we never 
select means until experience has informed us of their efficacy, 
and never use them but with a full knowledge of their relation 
to the end. 

Summary of the characteristics of instinct. — Each of the 
qualities of instinct on which I have remarked, is a peculiarity 
of it in respect to reason, and serves more or less to distinguish 
it from that faculty ; while the aggregate of these peculiari- 
ties shows conclusively that the difference between the two is 
fundamental. This will appear more clearly from a summary 
of the several points that have been considered. It has been 
shown, then, that instinct exists before experience, and is wholly 
independent of instruction ; that it is not susceptible of educa- 
tion or improvement of any kind, either in the individual or the 
race ; that it works successfully towards important and remote 
ends by the use of complex and laborious means, yet without 
any apparent consciousness of the difference between means 
and ends ; that it acts, in truth, by impulse, and not through re- 
flection, — at least, as much so as the man who has gained by 
habit the power of performing a long operation without reflect- 
ing on any part of it ; that it is limited to a few objects, and out 
of the narrow sphere of work required for these objects it is 
altogether useless ; and that, consequently, it appears in the 
same animal, and at the same time, both as the most brutish 



248 THE NATURE OF INSTINCT. 

stupidity and as the highest wisdom, for some of its creations 
shame the greatest ingenuity of man.* As we are confessedly 
ignorant of the internal constitution of both faculties, reason 
and instinct, and are compelled to judge of them exclusively by 
their outward manifestations, it is difficult to conceive of two 
powers which should appear more unlike. 

Beings guided by instinct are not moral beings. — It is vain to 
form conjectures respecting the inward essence, or ultimate 
cause, of a faculty which appears to human reason so anoma- 
lous. Yet one or two points, perhaps, may be satisfactorily 
made out respecting the mental constitution of brutes, which 
will afford us a glimpse of the final end of their being. 
Whether instinct be the mere action of a curious machine, or 
the effect of the constant agency and promptings of the Deity, 
or the working of some still more secret principle which is 
nowhere manifested but in animal life, it is not a free and con- 
scious power of the animal itself in which it appears and 
works. It is, if I may so speak, a foreign agency, which enters 
not into the individuality of the brute. The animal appears 
subject to it, controlled and guided by it, but not to possess and 
apply it by its own will for its own chosen purposes. We can- 
not conceive of wisdom apart from reflection and consciousness ; 
there is an absurdity in the very terms of such a statement. 
The skill and ingenuity, then, which appear in the works of the 
lower animals are not referable to the animals themselves, but 
must proceed from some higher power, working above the sphere 
of their consciousness. This assistance is meted out to them 
for specific and limited ends, and has no effect on the rest of 
their conduct, which is governed by their own individuality. In 
its highest functions, the brute appears only as the blind and 
passive instrument of a will which is not its own. 

* " The absolute hereditary nature of instincts, — their instant or speedy 
perfection, prior to all experience or memory, — their provision for the 
future without prescience of it, -~ the preciseness of their objects, extent, 
and limitation, — and the distinctness and permanence of their character 
for each species, — these are the more general facts on which our definition 
must be founded." — Holland's Mental Physiology, p. 201. 



THE NATURE OF INSTINCT. 249 

" And Reason raise o'er Instinct as you can, 
In this 't is God directs, in that 't is man." 

The power is granted to it for a time, but is not susceptible of 
improvement by practice while in its keeping, is invariably ap- 
plied in the same way, and with perfect success, and is with- 
drawn as soon as the purposes for which it was given are 
answered. No moral character is attributable to a faculty 
which is unconsciously exerted, and no moral aim can exist 
where progress or change is impossible. When deprived of 
this extraneous power, or viewed apart from it, the brute ap- 
pears in its true light, as the creature of a day, born not for 
purposes connected with its own being, but as an humble instru- 
ment, or a fragmentary part, in the great circle of animated 
nature, which, as a whole, is subservient to higher ends.* 



* I hardly need ohserve how much the phenomena considered in this 
chapter tend to confirm the doctrine of immediate divine agency. This 
was the opinion of Sir Isaac Newton, who, in the famous 31st Query, or 
General Scholium to his " Optics," says, " the instinct of brutes and in- 
sects can be nothing else than the wisdom and skill of a powerful, ever- 
living Agent, who, being in all places, is more able by his will to move 
the bodies within his boundless uniform sensorium, and thereby to form 
and reform the parts of the universe, than we are by our will to move the 
parts of our bodies." Even Miiller, the physiologist, says, " The cause 
of instinct appears to be the same power as that on which the first pro- 
duction of the animal, and the perfection of its organization, depend. 
The instinctive acts of animals show us that this power, which thus forms 
the whole organization with reference to a determinate purpose and in 
accordance with an unchanging law, has moreover an action beyond this ; 
they prove that it influences the voluntary movements. That which is 
effected by the instinctive movements is equally in accordance with a 
determinate purpose, and as necessary for the existence of the species as 
the organization itself; but while, in the case of the organization of the 
being, the object attained formed part of the organism, in the case of the 
instinctive movements, it is something in the exterior world ; the mental 
power of the animal is incited by the organic creative force to the concep- 
tion and attempt to attain some special object." 

Again, " it is further to be remarked that the realization of the ideas, 
images, and impulses, thus developed in the sensorium, is admirably 
facilitated by the organization of the animals. Both the internal impulse 



250 THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN 



CHAPTER II. 

THE PRINCIPLES OF ACTIVITY IN HUMAN NATURE. 

Summary of the last chapter. — The object of the last chapter 
was, by a brief inquiry into the mental constitution of the ani- 
mals inferior to man, to bring out into a stronger light those 
peculiarities of human nature which show what is the purpose 
of our being in this life, and what are the leading features in 
the scheme of Divine Providence for the government of man. 
I do not forget that our first object is to show what are the 
moral attributes of God, and to ascertain if there is sufficient 
evidence to justify us in imputing to him those qualities of 
infinite wisdom and benevolence, of perfect justice and holiness, 
which the religious sentiment within us instinctively requires in 
the person towards whom it is directed. But these qualities can 
be manifested to our eyes only in his works and ways ; and it 
is by studying these, that is, by ascertaining what human nature 
is, how it is endowed, and what is the part which it has to per- 
form in this stage of existence, that we can arrive at any certain 
and precise knowledge of the Divine nature. Now we are so 
much accustomed to take for granted a knowledge of the human 
constitution, both intellectual and moral, it is so much easier to 



and the external organization being dependent on the same original cause, 
the form of the animal appears in complete unison with its impulses to 
action ; it wills to do nothing which its organs do not enable it to do ; and 
its organs are not such as to prompt to any act to which it is not impelled 
by an instinct." Thus, the indistinct sight of the mole, arising from the 
smallness of its eyes, which are also shielded by thick hairs, and the shape 
of its claws and feet, are admirably adapted to the subterranean life which 
its instincts impel it to lead. The instinct of the sloth urges it to climb 
trees and live in them, a mode of existence for which it is perfectly well 
fitted by the shape of its extremities, which allow it to walk on the ground 
only with great difficulty and awkwardness. 



THE ACTIVE TOWERS OF MAN. 251 

use our faculties in the study of external objects than of the 
mind itself, that, without some object of comparison or contrast, 
it is difficult to understand, or, at any rate, to have a clear and 
lively sense of, those endowments by which we are distinguished 
among God's creatures, and of the purposes for which these 
distinguishing attributes were granted to us. We see the work 
that is accomplished by brutes, and how they are fitted for its 
performance. We are conscious of the possession of higher 
faculties than theirs, and we seek to know how our task and our 
destiny differ from theirs ; or whether, in truth, we have any 
task set to us, or any great end to obtain. The character and 
intentions of the Deity must appear most clearly from a com- 
parative examination of the two higher orders of animated being 
which he has made. 

One point I may now assume, as sufficiently established in 
the First Part of this discussion. It is inconsistent, — I do not 
say with infinite wisdom, for perhaps we are not justified at this 
stage of the argument in considering any of the attributes of God, 
except his duration, as infinite, — but it is inconsistent with the 
transcendent wisdom which is everywhere visible in the works 
of creation, to suppose that any thing was created in vain, or 
that a difference is established between two orders of being 
without any reason for that difference. To act with reference 
to improper or ill-chosen ends, is the part of imperfect intelli- 
gence; but to act without any end at all, is mere brutishness, or 
a sign of the absolute want of understanding. We cannot be- 
lieve that the creation of man, or the constitution of his being 
in any respect, is as meaningless as seems the direction of the 
clouds that float athwart a summer's sky. 

Discipline and self-development are the ends of human life. — 
A comparison of the human with the brute mind shows, first, 
that self-development is one of the great ends of our being here, 
and that the fulfilment of this purpose is left in a great degree 
to our own freewill. It is not enough that the intellect should 
be competent for its task ; the work of preparation, or the act 
of rendering it competent, is itself the first object for which we 
are urged to any kind of exertion. Discipline and progress, not 



252 THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN. 

mere possession or enjoyment, is the great purpose of human 
life. The workings of instinct, if we look only at the impor- 
tance and difficulty of the results obtained, often surpass the 
most strenuous efforts of the conscious mind. Man, as I have 
said, may go to school to the ant and the bee ; in fact, there is 
hardly one of the inferior animals whose habits he may not 
study with a well founded hope of obtaining direction for his 
own- labors. Wiry, then, is he not led, unconsciously and pas- 
sively, as the brutes are, by the wisest and most effective means, 
selected without any effort of his own judgment and ingenuity, 
to the immediate accomplishment of far more brilliant results 
than he has ever yet worked out by the natural exercise of the 
faculties with which he is at present endowed ? Why, for in- 
stance, after all his bitter experience in the matters of govern- 
ment and social institutions, and after the wisdom of thirty 
centuries has been exhausted in pondering upon the several 
problems of social philosophy, is he still unable to form a soci- 
ety which, in point of orderly arrangement, harmony, and effec- 
tive cooperation for the general good, shall even approach the 
excellence of a community of bees ? His faculties, his powers, 
both of body and mind, are unquestionably higher than theirs ; 
the gregarious appetite or passion with him is as strong ; and his 
happiness, if not his safety, is consequently as dependent as 
theirs on the perfection of the arrangements which may be made 
for living and working in company with his fellows. Why, 
then, has not the same Almighty Guide, who condescends to 
order and sustain the economy of a hive, placed man also, with- 
out any effort of his own, in a perfect social state, thus saving 
him from the disorder, contention, anarchy, and misrule, the 
long and painful recital and description of which now consti- 
tute the history of the human race ? It were surely as easy 
to do this for man as for an insect ; and why, then, is it not 
equally desirable in the two cases ? 

There can be but one answer to this question. It is, that an 
improved condition of society, bestowed at once by the free gift 
of the Creator, instead of being attained by human trial and 
effort, is not an end so desirable as that very unassisted trial and 



•THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN. 253 

effort, however costly these may seem in respect to human hap- 
piness or mere enjoyment. He who complains of the necessity 
of this labor, and thinks it an impeachment of the goodness 
of God that the object cannot be acquired without it, really en- 
vies the condition of an insect, who is led blindfold, but in abso- 
lute security, to the fulfilment of the conditions of his existence. 
Will he consent to change places with it ? I do not yet say 
that the lot of human beings, with all this necessity for toil, with 
all their liability to repeated mistakes and failures, and conse- 
quent sufferings, is still infinitely higher and happier than that of 
the lower orders of animal life, who walk darkling, but in safety ; 
who have no liberty of choice, and so never mistake ; who are 
God-guicled, and therefore never fail of the end that is placed 
before them. The question of the comparative desirableness 
of the two situations, or the two schemes of life, as they may be 
termed, will depend on the result of our subsequent inquiry into 
the comparative value of discipline and enjoyment ; of a char- 
acter self-formed, and a nature endowed and wholly controlled, 
however happily, by another ; of virtue united with freewill, 
and happiness enjoyed of necessity. But it is important here 
to understand the radical difference of the two situations, and 
the consequences which necessarily follow from the different 
endowments of man and the brute, and the dissimilar parts 
which they have to play upon the theatre of creation. 

Why physical laws are permanent and uniform. — The plan 
of Divine Providence in the government of the universe must 
be studied as a whole. We cannot understand the economy of 
one of the parts without contrasting it with that of the others, 
and seeing how, in the several cases, different ends are obtained 
•by different means, and one end, again, made subservient to 
another and higher one, so that all work together for good. 
Man is not the only denizen of the earth, nor is his happiness 
the single purpose, or even the highest purpose, of creation. 
His improvement, the perfecting of his moral character by his 
own choice and effort, may be this purpose ; but this is the 
point to be established by our present inquiry. We have seen 
that the course of merely physical events, or the succession of 

22 



254 THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN* 

what are called cause and effect in the material universe, is 
sustained and guided by the immediate agency of the Deity, 
and in every part it affords sufficient evidence of his wisdom 
and power. These events do not succeed each other at random, 
but according to what we term natural law ; that is, in a fixed 
and orderly succession, similar antecedents being always fol- 
lowed by similar consequents. There must be some reason for 
this order and harmony, some purpose to be accomplished by 
it ; for as each event is caused immediately, or without the in- 
tervention of secondary causes, its character is in nowise nec- 
essarily determined by the event which preceded it, but its 
occurrence, if the Deity had so willed, might have been marked 
by wholly unprecedented circumstances. I say that there must 
be some reason or purpose for this preservation of natural law, 
because all physical arrangements and adaptations, all the 
organisms of nature, as we have seen, reveal design ; and it is 
inconsistent with the Divine wisdom that is evinced by this fact, 
to suppose that any thing is, or takes place, in vain, or without 
a purpose. 

Permanency of law not needed for the brutes. — Now, this 
regularity of succession, or permanency of natural law, is not 
needed for any object connected with the animal kingdom, which 
is inferior to man. Brutes, as far as we can see, make no 
selection of means, and seem wholly ignorant, indeed, of the 
difference between means and ends. Every act performed by 
them appears to be done from immediate impulse, or desire 
relating to that act alone ; they are literally slaves of the ap- 
petite of the present moment. Of the subserviency of the 
action to some result which is to take place hereafter, of its fit- 
ness to satisfy some future want, or to make provision for sat- 
isfying it, they have no knowledge. They profit not by expe- 
rience, and indulge in no anticipations ; or, at any rate, they 
never conform their conduct to anticipations of the future. The 
resemblance, then, of the present and future to the past, the fact 
that similar events may be expected under similar circumstances, 
is not needed for their guidance. Order and harmony are not 
for those who are incapable of comparing them with confusion 



THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN. 255 

and discord, and who could not profit by their continuance. 
Limited in its desires and feelings to the present moment, look- 
ing neither before nor behind, and so incapable, as we may 
suppose, of any purely intellectual exercise, the animal creation, 
excluding man, is still susceptible of enjoyment, and its pleas- 
ures, as they are evidently not of its own procuring, afford the 
clearest evidence of the benevolence of the Deity. The ex- 
igencies of their situation, the wants of their nature, and espec- 
ially the continuance of their species, are all provided for, with- 
out any tax on their own skill or energy, by the same power 
and wisdom which ordained their existence. 

Moral purpose of physical law. — The predominance of law, 
then, in the course of nature is intended for the guidance of 
man ; we can imagine no other purpose for it. It is a por- 
tion of the scheme of Providence for the government of a being 
endowed with freewill, furnished with motives or inducements 
to action, supplied with a capacity for knowledge and means of 
instruction, and then left by his own effort to form his character 
and shape his destiny. There must be some object in such a 
plan of government beyond the mere production of happiness ; 
that end, as has been shown, is sufficiently answered in the 
case of the lower animals by simpler means, by a less complex 
constitution of mind, and fewer adaptations to it of external 
circumstances. There must be some higher and more desirable 
attainment than the mere sense of pleasure or enjoyment for 
the time ; and therefore, the subordination of the lower end to * 
the higher, the occasional sacrifice of human happiness for the 
promotion of a worthier object, is perfectly consistent with the 
infinite benevolence of the Creator. Man, as has been shown, 
has no instincts whatever; appetites, desires, and affections, 
relating to objects immediately before him, he has in common 
with the brutes ; and, like these, he is susceptible of pleasure 
from the gratification of them. But he has no means of fore- 
seeing the exigencies of his situation, and, of course, no power 
of providing for his future wants, or of aspiring to any thing 
higher than this merely sensual pleasure, except from what his 
reason teaches him respecting the course of nature, and the 



256 THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN. 

laws which govern the succession of events. Reason proceeds 
only by experience ; and the lessons of experience would be of 
no worth, they would be mere reminiscences of past events, 
without any inferences deducible from them, unless the course 
of nature were uniform, and similar circumstances were always 
attended with similar results. 

This doctrine, that the fixed laws even of material nature 
have a moral purpose, will appear to most persons, I am well 
aware, as a bold and fanciful speculation. The prevailing 
opinion, though it be not often openly avowed, is, that these 
laws have no object but to uphold the beauty and order, the stu- 
pendous mechanism, of the outward universe, one being subor- 
dinated to another, or included in it, and all working together in 
grand and complex harmony to ke'ep up the perpetual cycle of 
events, and sustain the unity of the system of created things. 
This, I am sorry to believe, is the prevailing and increasing 
tendency of the physical science of the present day, — to reduce 
the study of nature to the determination of its laws or regular- 
ities of succession and arrangement, to maintain that any one 
of these principles has no object or function but its subserviency 
to a higher one, and that the widest generalization of them is 
the highest truth attainable by the human faculties.* Accord- 



* One great cause of infidelity at the present day is the want of consis- 
tency, the apparent contradiction, between most persons' religious views 
and their scientific opinions, or their ideas of the course of nature and the 
operation of physical causes. The doctrine of an immediately superin- 
tending Providence, ordering all events for the moral instruction and gov- 
ernment of man, cannot be reconciled with the idea of a -chain of events, 
each link of which is determined by an inherent necessity, growing out 
of its relations to those which precede and follow it in the succession. 

Eeligion requires us to consider ourselves as the objects of a Divine 
Providence, of an infinite superintending care, which orders all events for 
good. This doctrine is a necessary consequence of a belief in the benevo- 
lence and justice of the Deity, and in his moral government of the world. 
A devout mind recognizes it almost instinctively as such, and considers all 
events, especially those which concern one's personal welfare or happiness, 
as dispensations which are required for his instruction or improvement. It 
discerns a moral purpose in all things, believing that they were specially 



THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN. 257 

ing to this view, either the material creation had no purpose 
beyond itself, or that purpose is not discoverable by man ; we 
must look upon it, indeed, as a grand and marvellous work ; but 



designed to -produce a certain effect on the character and heart. It subor- 
dinates the physical to the moral ; regarding the former as means, and the 
latter as an end. Life is a gift and a trust, to be exercised for certain 
purposes ; death is a warning, and a token that, in a particular case, these 
purposes are accomplished. Every cause of affliction or rejoicing has an 
errand and a meaning, and it is our duty to consider it as such, to try to 
read its lesson, and apply it for the regulation of our hearts and lives. 
This is the view which the believer takes, in profession at least, of the 
affairs of this world, and of its moral government by the Almighty ; it is 
the view which religion requires him to take, if it be not reduced to a mere 
speculative belief in the existence of a God, who is no further concerned 
with the lot of mankind than as he originally created them, endowed 
them with certain faculties, and placed them upon the earth to determine 
their destiny by their own wisdom and their observation of the workings 
of nature. 

But in practical life and the management of their daily concerns, as well 
as in scientific investigations, most persons act upon a theory which is the 
very opposite of this religious doctrine. They look upon the course of 
events as inevitably determined, from the beginning, by the inherent constitu- 
tion of things and by the relations of objects and circumstances to each 
other, without reference to the merit or demerit of accountable beings, and without 
regard to any moral lesson or purpose whatsoever. Every occurrence in the 
outward universe is an efficient cause, which is necessarily followed by an 
effect exactly proportioned to it ; and this effect, again, being causal in its 
nature as to the events which follow it, inevitably acts upon them all, and 
has a share in determining their character, so that its consequences might 
be traced, — if we had the power of distinguishing them from the similar 
operating causes with which they are «ningled, — in an ever-widening 
stream, through all time. Life and death, motion and rest, health and 
disease, growth, progress, decay, and restoration, are all necessarily deter- 
mined by each other and by attendant circumstances, and follow each 
other in perpetual succession ; moral good or evil having, at most, a power 
too small to be appreciated in checking the current or altering its direction. 
Man himself, though his freewill be admitted as one of the causes which 
affect his lot, is still operated upon by so many other and more powerful 
ones, that he seems like a leaf floating upon the stream, and hurried away 
by it, he knows not whither. His birth and death, to recur to a former 
illustration, were both determined ages before by the altered position of a 
grain of sand. He is for ever complaining that he is the sport of circum- 

22* 



258 THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN. 

after we have explored all its recesses and fathomed its lowest 
depths, the only impression left on the mind is a vague feeling 
of wonder and admiration. A more profound philosophy shows 



stances, be his efforts and merits what they may. Even his character, if 
we may believe his murmurings, is formed rather for him than by him, 
through the accident of his birth in one or another country, in a higher 
or lower position of life, and through the circumstances which surrounded 
his infancy and childhood, before either body or mind had. strength enough 
to contend against external influences. Who can discern, he asks, in 
moments of despondency, the watchfulness and justice of an ever-ruling 
Providence, or any moral intention whatsoever, amid this chaos of blind 
and conflicting forces ? When in such a mood, the highest virtue within 
his reach, or the one most essential to his well-being, seems to be the 
Stoicism which teaches insensibility to hardship and wrong, and the stifling 
of all generous aspirations. 

Do I exaggerate the inconsistency, then, between what may be called 
the religious and the practical view of life ? Is it possible for the two to 
coexist in the same mind, without the individual becoming conscious at 
times that they are wholly irreconcilable with each other, so that he is re- 
duced to the sad necessity of choosing between them ? Either God gov- 
erns the world, or the blind fatality of physical causes, operating through 
the powers inherent in every atom of brute matter, governs it ; there is no 
other alternative. In his closet, or while listening to a sermon, or under 
the affliction caused by a recent bereavement, or in near view of approaching 
death, man accepts the former doctrine, and thinks that he believes it, 
though he has made no examination of the grounds on which it rests. 
But he goes out into the world, his mind, as he supposes, recovers its tone, 
he watches the course of events, judges of the future by the past, prepares 
to resist the force of circumstances or to yield to them, and acts altogether 
on the supposition that these events and circumstances depend on natural 
causes, which operate irresistibly, «and were not designed or directed by a 
conscious being with any moral or spiritual purpose whatever. 

And here, I apprehend, is the reason why scientific pursuits have not, 
of late, always tended to confirm the religious faith of those who were en- 
gaged in them. It is the business of the man of science to discover the 
invariable connections and sequences of facts and events, and to separate 
these from the casual, temporary, and irregular combinations which throw 
no light upon the nature of the phenomena. This attempt has been 
crowned of late years with the most brilliant success, the dominion of law, 
as it is called, having been everywhere established in the midst of what 
seemed to be the greatest variety and confusion. The laws of nature, we 
arc told, admit of no exceptions ; seeming anomalies and contradictions, 



THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN. 259 

\ib that the object of God's works is not merely to asto?iisk, 
but to teach. To borrow the eloquent words of Dr. Charming, 
" Mind is God's first end. The great purpose, for which an 



when further studied, are found to exemplify a higher law, or to come 
from the mingled operation of two or more principles, so that the apparent 
exception confirms the rule. But the moral effect or tendency of a phe- 
nomenon is not found to he one of its invariable characteristics, and so, 
even when observed, it is considered only as a fortuitous coincidence, 
which indicates nothing as to the fixed relations of events, and therefore 
comes not within the field which the student of nature endeavors to survey. 
The mere separation of the moral from the physical sciences, and the 
division of labor which assigns one class of men exclusively to the study 
of the latter, necessarily draw off their attention from those observations 
and inquiries which give a meaning and a purpose to natural phenomena, 
and which lead us from the study of this fabric of the universe up to the 
character and intentions of its Almighty Architect. If this search after 
the necessary and immutable relations of things, in which the followers of 
physical science are wholly absorbed, has led many of them to doubt 
whether man's own nature be not subject to a like inevitable control with 
that which governs the fall of an atom and the courses of the planets, and 
so to reduce the human will to a phenomenon of the same class with 
gravitation, all the effects of which may be predicted beforehand from its 
known laws, why should we wonder that most of them practically regard 
external nature as mere mechanism, which has no motive power save two 
or three inherent and inexplicable forces, and is strictly limited to the pro- 
duction of mechanical results. 

In opposition to this view, I have endeavored, in the First Part of this 
work, to prove that physical laws are no causes at all, but are mere ex- 
pressions of the order and uniformity of physical phenomena, so that to 
attribute efficient causation to them is, in fact, an abuse of words, or a 
meaningless statement; and that all the phenomena are directly produced 
by the immediate action of the Deity. In this Second Part, I proceed 
to show, first, that the physical laws themselves, or the order and uniform- 
ity of events in nature, have a general and exclusively moral purpose, being 
intended solely for the guidance of man ; and, secondly, that they have a 
specific moral purpose, many or all of them being intended to enforce upon 
man the observance of the moral law or the commands of God. Having 
proved before, that God works immediately in nature, we now show that 
the effects of his agency are not merely physical, but moral. Not only 
order and uniformity, but justice and benevolence, are the laws of his 
creation. The lessons which the universe teaches are addressed to the 
conscience, no less than to the intellect, of man. * 



260 THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN. 

order of nature is fixed, is plainly the formation of mind. In 
a creation without order, where events would follow without 
any regular succession, it is obvious that mind must be kept in 
perpetual infancy ; for in such a universe, there could be no 
reasoning from effects to causes, no induction to establish general 
truths, no adaptation of means to ends; that is, no science 
relating to God, or matter, or mind ; no action, no virtue." 

Analysis of the principles of human action. — As we are 
compelled to admit, then, that there is a higher purpose in the 
Divine government than the mere promotion of happiness, that 
end being sufficiently provided for in the constitution -of the 
lower animals, we come to an examination of what Dugald 
Stewart calls " the active and moral powers of man," as our 
means of discovering what that purpose is. The first fact that 
strikes us here is, that most of the lower incitements to action — 
all the appetites, and most of the desires and affections — are 
common to the human and the brute mind. They involve no 
exercise of reason ; they are blind, but unerring, in their opera- 
tion, and they supply a stimulus for exertion, which is either 
constant, or recurs at frequent intervals. Their indulgence 
brings with it certain consequences of good or evil, according 
as their proper limits have been observed or transgressed ; but 
the perception of such consequences is not necessary to their vital- 
ity or efficiency as motives to action. This will be readily 
admitted in regard to the appetites, such as those of hunger and 
thirst, for instance. They first manifest themselves by a sense 
of uneasiness, which subsides, and is followed by a feeling of 
enjoyment, as soon as they are gratified. Afterwards, indeed, 
the recollection of this enjoyment will be associated with the 
primitive craving, and may lead us to stimulate or provoke it 
with a view to the pleasure which is to come from its indulgence. 
But this association was not needed to excite the appetites at 
first ; and though it may heighten, it certainly does not wholly 
create, the pleasure which they subsequently afford. 

Final cause of the lower impulses to action. — The only other 
remark needed as to these original impulses is, that their 
adaptation to dhe necessities of the body, their graduated and 



THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN. 261 

periodically recurring influence, is in itself a beautiful instance 
of design. Life is preserved by coupling with that which is 
necessary for its preservation an imperative, but blind desire, 
which is not subject to the will, and is thus guarded against the 
effects of inattention or carelessness. The uncertainty of the 
voluntary action of mind, the intermittent and fitful char- 
acter of attention and reason, is not permitted to hazard the 
performance of those acts on which our continued existence 
depends. The appetites are aided by other propensities, tend- 
ing either to action or repose, which are equally blind, and go to 
keep up that salutary medium between sluggishness and undue 
exertion, which is necessary for the health both of body and 
mind. 

Purpose and function of the affections and desires. — The 
desires and affections, which T come next to consider, are dis- 
tinguished from the appetites in so far as they do not take their 
rise from the body, nor operate periodically ; but they agree 
with them in being independent of reflection and calculation, and 
in tending directly towards specific objects as their ultimate ends. 
We can give no further account of them, nor explain their pref- 
erence of one object over another, otherwise than by saying, 
that such is the constitution of -our being. Jouffroy calls them 
the primitive and instinctive tendencies of human nature, which 
show themselves in man almost from the first moment of his 
existence, and develop and strengthen themselves with every 
step that he takes towards maturer years. Among these origi- 
nal desires may be mentioned the love of knowledge, of society, 
of approbation, of power, and many other things, the number of 
which will depend on the fineness of our analysis of the several 
objects, or on our principles of classification. Why we should 
desire these things rather than their opposites, is a question that 
we are no more able to answer, than we are to tell why certain 
odors are pleasant, and others offensive, or why glass is trans- 
parent, and metal opaque. The desires exist in greater or less 
strength in different minds, but in some degree, they are common 
to all minds ; for without them, man would sink into a state of 
entire inaction and repose, or rather, he would never have 



THE ACTIVE POWETIS OF MAN. 

risen out of such a condition. He would still be capable of in- 
ert contemplation and reverie ; a perpetual succession of loosely 
connected images and ideas might float for ever before the 
mind, and with these might be coupled a consciousness of exist- 
ence, — all without the will ever being called into activity. 
But to live and to think are not the only ends of our creation. 
Action is necessary for our improvement and our happiness, and 
the necessary stimulus to action is supplied by these several 
desires, the number and variety of which open a wide field for 
effort, and permit many to labor side by side with less risk of 
interference. 

These desires are among the earliest manifestations of the 
infant mind. They do not wait for the development of the in- 
telligence, nor are the teachings of experience or the instructions 
of our fellow-beings needed to call them forth, or to keep them 
in exercise. The infant shows the love of society and of appro- 
bation almost as soon as the appetite of hunger. "Attend only," 
says a distinguished naturalist, " to the eyes, the features, and 
the gestures of a child on the breast when another child is pre- 
sented to it ; — both instantly, previous to the possibility of 
instruction or habit, exhibit the most evident expressions of joy. 
Then- eyes sparkle, and their features and gestures demonstrate, 
in the most unequivocal manner, a mutual attachment. When 
further advanced, children who are strangers to each other, 
though their social appetite be equally strong, discover a mu- 
tual shyness of approach, which, however, is soon conquered by 
the more powerful instinct of association." 

The desires are unselfish. — But a stronger proof of the prim- 
itive and unreflecting character of these desires is the fact, that 
most, if not all, of them are shown in various degrees of inten- 
sity by the lower animals. Emulation is the prevailing trait in 
the disposition of a horse, as the love of approbation is in that 
of a dog, and the desire for society in that of all the gregarious 
animals. In these cases, certainly, it is not the utility of the 
several objects that are aimed at, or the pleasure which they 
are capable of imparting, that is the foundation of the desire ; 
for this pleasure is made known only by experience, the utility 



/ 



THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN. 2-63 

is discoverable by reason alone ; and brutes are incapable of 
profiting by the one or the other. It is a proof of the goodness 
of God, that these animals and human beings are so organized, 
their sensibilities are such, that the gratification of these desires 
is generally accompanied by a pleasurable feeling, or a sense 
of enjoyment. But this is not a necessary accompaniment ; we 
can easily conceive of a sensibility so constituted, that the fulfil- 
ment of the desire should be attended with pain instead of 
pleasure ; and yet the desire would be not the less real, not the 
less a stimulus to action. In fact, under certain circumstances, 
in certain states of body or mind, the satisfaction of our longings 
does become a source of torment, instead of happiness ; Heaven 
punishes us by granting our guilty prayers ; and though this 
result be foreseen, though we have a moral certainty that more 
pain than pleasure will be the consequence of the accomplish- 
ment of our wishes, we persist in the effort. The vehemence 
of the desire conquers every thing, — even our regard for our 
own happiness. 

The affections are original tendencies of our nature. — I have 
dwelt the longer on the uncalculating, and therefore, in one 
sense of the term, unselfish, nature of the original appetites and 
desires, in order to prepare the way for a similar conclusion 
(where it is more important) in regard to the last class of these 
primitive impulses which we have to consider, — namely, the 
affections. These are usually divided into two classes, accord- 
ing as their object is the communication of enjoyment or of suf- 
fering to our fellow-beings. In the first class are reckoned the 
affections of kindred, of friendship, patriotism, pity, gratitude, 
and the like ; in the second are comprised hatred, jealousy, envy, 
and revenge, all of which, however, are more properly consid- 
ered as modifications of the single principle of resentment. 
What benevolent purposes are answered by ingrafting these 
principles in the human constitution, is a point for subsequent 
consideration. My only present aim is to show that these 
affections, like the simple appetites and desires, are original 
tendencies of our nature, and point towards their several ob- 
jects simply from an instinctive liking for those objects, and 



264 THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN. 

without any regard to the pleasure or pain which may attend 
the exercise of the affections themselves on the part of those 
who feel them ; in other words, that there is such a thing as 
benevolent affection, original and unmixed. There is pleasure 
consequent on their entertainment, but a desire to receive that 
pleasure is not the reason why we entertain them. We do this 
because we cannot help it. Under certain circumstances, we 
are affected with love, pity, gratitude, or resentment, whether 
we will or no ; we admit these feelings as necessarily as the 
understanding yields assent on the presentation of sufficient 
evidence. We act in accordance with them, not from any self- 
ish desire of the pleasure or profit which such action will occa- 
sion to ourselves, but because the affection itself prompts us to 
act ; and this prompting would be felt, though injury or death 
should be the consequence of yielding to it. Why has it ever 
been supposed that it was otherwise ? 

Origin of prudence or self-love. — To answer this question, I 
must explain the origin of the feeling of self-love, and the nature 
of the selfish system in morals, as it is called, which attempts to 
reduce all- motives, and refer all conduct, to this single principle. 
As every appetite, desire, and affection, when gratified, brings 
with it a sense of enjoyment, the sum of these several enjoyments 
constitutes our idea of hapjnness. Experience of pleasure, of 
course, brings with it a desire of its recurrence ; and as we wish 
that this pleasure should be as extensive and varied as possible, 
we are led to study the art of so combining and regulating our 
motives and actions, that one shall not interfere with another, 
and that the general result shall be the maximum of enjoyment. 
Reason teaches us often to sacrifice a less pleasure for a greater, 
or to postpone a momentary indulgence for a larger and more 
permanent good to be obtained hereafter. To borrow the lan- 
guage of a great moralist, " any condition may be denominated 
happy, in which the amount or aggregate of pleasure exceeds 
that of pain, and the degree of happiness depends upon the 
quantity of this excess." Reason, guided by experience, that 
is, by the materials afforded by the gratification of the several 
desires, decides upon the course of conduct which will raise this 



THE ACTIVE TOWERS OF MAN. 265 

excess of pleasure over pain to the highest attainable point ; 
and to act from this rational and calculating regard for our own 
interest, is said to be the dictate of self-love. 

Prudence first distinguishes man from the brutes. — Here, 
first, in the active part of his nature, does man show his superi- 
ority over the brute. The latter, unable to profit by experience, 
and incapable of foresight, cannot regulate its actions by a sys- 
tem, or plan of life, but necessarily follows the impulse or desire 
of the moment. The complex and abstract idea of happiness 
lies beyond its power of conception. It cannot foresee even 
the enjoyment which will follow the gratification of its present 
appetite, but it acts under the immediate pressure of that appe- 
tite, almost as mechanically as a machine moves from the im- 
pulse given to it by a spring. For all the lower animals, pru- 
dence is an impossible virtue ; but with man, it is the dawning 
of his intellectual and moral life, the first step which he takes 
as a rational and self-improving being. He can restrain the 
impulse of the moment, be it appetite, affection, or desire, till he 
can study the consequences of yielding to it, till he can remem- 
ber what was the effect of a former gratification of it, till he can 
ascertain if there be not other objects which he desires more 
earnestly, while the attainment of them will be hindered or ren- 
dered impossible by the present indulgence. To act thus delib- 
erately, with reflection and foresight, is the part of prudence ; 
this is the lowest in the scale of virtues, for it ends in self; but 
it is also the first, for, without it, the practice of any other virtue 
ivould seldom be possible. By the exercise of it man first rises 
above the condition of the brutes, and manifests, not, indeed, a 
moral nature, properly so called, but the capacity of receiving 
such a nature, and of acting up to its dictates. Here, also, 
ivhere morality first becomes practicable, was placed, as you will 
remember, the decisive evidence of human freewill, — in man's 
power of governing and restraining for a time the operation of 
motives, till he could consider and select from them a fitting 
principle of action. 

How far self-love is legitimate. — - Prudence, which I here use 
as synonymous with self love, is only a well-considered and dis- 

23 



266 THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN. 

passionate regard for our own future welfare ; and, as such, it 
is perfectly legitimate, and even commendable, when it interferes 
not with higher obligations. Its function is supervisory, and its 
sphere embraces all the lower incitements to action, which we 
have already considered. It is a governor and a judge among 
the appetites, affections, and desires ; restraining, regulating, or 
indulging them, at the bidding of the sovereign reason. If it 
abdicates its throne, man becomes a mere brute, — that is, a 
slave to the impulses and passions of the instant. If it rules 
too absolutely, usurping or disregarding the authority of a higher 
faculty, namely, the conscience, then man becomes, not a brute, 
but a demon, or an utterly selfish being. There is much less 
danger of this perversion of the faculty than of the former 
one, for men yield far more readily to their immediate pas- 
sions than to calculations of their future interest. " A regard 
to our own general happiness," says Sir James Mackintosh, the 
safest and most philosophical of all modem commentators upon 
the theory of ethics, " is not a vice, but in itself an excellent 
quality. It were well, if it prevailed more generally over 
craving and shortsighted appetites. The weakness of the social 
affections, and the strength of the private desires, properly 
constitute selfishness ; — a vice utterly at variance with the hap- 
piness of him who harbors it, and as such condemned by self- 
love." 

Explanation of the selfish system. — But the fact, that the 
lower incitements to action are under the government of pru- 
dence, and are directed with reference to our future welfare, 
has given rise to the monstrous theory in morals, that man's 
whole conduct is determined by the love of self, and that he is 
incapable of disinterested action. He seeks only his own in- 
terest, says Hobbes, and virtue, consequently, is but a name. 
The benevolent affections are placed on the same level with the 
private desires, such as those of emulation and revenge ; be- 
cause pleasure, or some ulterior advantage, follows the gratifi- 
cation of them, we are said to yield to them only from a view 
to our own happiness. The passions to which we give separate 
names differ from each other, according to Hobbes, only in their 



THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN. 267 

outward aspect, — that is, with reference to the different objects 
towards winch they are turned ; at bottom, they are but modifi- 
cations of the only true passion of which human nature is sus- 
ceptible, — the love of self If we honor or reverence another 
being, he says, it is only because we are aware of his superior 
power, and we desire to conciliate his good-will. Ridicule is 
only an intense conception of our own superiority to the person 
who is laughed at. Love, even that of a mother for her child, 
is but prudent forecast, a lively anticipation of the services 
which may be hereafter rendered us by the loved object. Pity 
is the imagination of evil which may happen to ourselves, ex- 
cited by contemplating the misfortunes of another. To be char- 
itable is only to be proudly conscious of having power enough 
not merely to create our own happiness, but to promote the 
happiness of another. Thus, because the goodness of God has 
so ordered the course of events, and so formed our hearts and 
minds, that every kindly and noble feeling is its own reward, 
and every generous and virtuous action redounds even to the 
temporal advantage of the agent, does the perverse ingenuity 
of the theorist twist all these feelings into forms of selfishness, 
and represent the action as only simulating the virtues of which 
human nature is really incapable. Because honesty in the 
long run is the best policy, we are said to be honest only be- 
cause we are politic, and dread the consequences of detected 
knavery. 

Refutation of this system. — This repulsive and degrading 
theory could never have obtained the notice which it has re- 
ceived, if it had not been urged with great ability by Hobbes, 
a reasoner of singular acuteness, and one of the greatest mas- 
ters of prose style in the English language. The refutation of 
it has already been laid before you, in the obvious fact, that the 
primitive passions and desires all seek their several ends irrespec- 
tive of the consequences of their gratification. We claim no 
more for the social desires than for the appetites. A man 
drinks because he is thirsty, and not in order to preserve life, 
though death would be the consequence of an utter privation of 
liquids ; just so, he seeks society because he is gregarious by 



268 THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN. 

nature, and not on account of the advantages lie may derive 
from the cooperation of his fellows, signal as these advantages 
are found to be. In fact, he never could have known that so- 
ciety would be useful to him except from experience ; and he 
could certainly have had no experience till a society was first 
formed. Men were first brought together, then, without a pos- 
sibility of being acquainted with the only motives which, accord- 
ing to the selfish system, could ever bring them together. 

Again, man is at one time benevolent or compassionate, just 
as he is revengeful at another, without regard in either case to 
the effect which giving way to the emotion may have upon his 
own well-being. When stung by a keen sense of wrong, he will 
often prosecute his revenge to the utter destruction of what are 
called his worldly prospects, and knowing all the while that he 
is rushing upon his ruin. So, if his pity is strongly excited, he 
will attempt to relieve the distress in a manner which a mo- 
ment's reflection would have assured him would do great injury 
to himself and to society, without materially benefiting the ob- 
ject of compassion. It is plain, therefore, that the benevolent 
affections are just as uncalculating and disinterested as their op- 
posites, or those which tend to the harm of others, — and no more 
so. In truth, a theory which represents the affection of a mother, 
when hanging over the cradle of her child, as dictated only by 
a selfish regard for the comfort and advantage which that child 
may hereafter afford to her declining years, hardly merits re- 
futation. Why, the brute feels this affection, if we may judge 
from appearances, quite as strongly as the human being ; and 
we know that the brute is incapable of calculating consequences. 

The affections are not virtues. — I have dwelt thus long upon 
the selfish system, only to bring out into a stronger light the un- 
reflecting and irrational character of all the direct incentives to 
action, including the affections and sentiments, as well as the 
appetites, and so to justify the arrangement of them under so 
low an attribute even as prudence or self-love; the sphere of 
conscience, or the proper domain of morality, being as yet 
hardly in sight. Our natural affections, as Dugald Stewart 
observes, " cannot be exalted into virtues ; for in so far as they 



THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN. 269 

arise from original constitution, they confer no merit whatever 
on the individual, any more than his appetites or desires ; — at 
the same time, there is a manifest gradation in the sentiments 
of respect with, which we regard these different constituents of 
character. Our desires, although not virtuous in themselves, 
are manly and respectable, and plainly of greater dignity than 
our animal appetites. In like manner, it may be remarked, 
£hat our benevolent affections, although not meritorious, are 
highly amiable." 

To follow the blind impulse of a sentiment or emotion which 
is not controlled or sanctioned by any higher faculty, is conduct 
little worthy of a rational being. Yet human nature is far more 
prone to this fault, than to the opposite excess of listening to the 
cautious whisperings of self-love, which looks not only to pres- 
ent gratification, but to future and permanent well-being. There 
is an exaltation in fine sentiment, a nobleness in the generous 
affections, which hurries away the will, before consequences can 
be estimated, or the claims even of justice can obtain a hearing. 
But such enthusiasm is usually barren of good results, and how- 
ever amiable it may appear in the eyes of the unthinking, it 
must not arrogate to itself the rewards of self-sacrificing virtue. 
In such conduct, indeed, there is no abnegation of self; for 
without reflection and forethought, there can be no conscious- 
ness of any advantage that is resigned, or any enjoyment that is 
sacrificed. To act thus is the part rather of reckless and short- 
sighted selfishness, which covets the brief pleasure that always 
follows the immediate gratification of the impulse of the mo- 
ment, whether that impulse tends to the welfare or the injury 
of our fellow-beings. It cannot be amiss to determine, as I 
have attempted to do, the true moral character of these original 
incitements to action, since it is part of the philosophy of the 
day, so called, to yield them implicit obedience. But I pass on. 

Self-love subservient to conscience. — Prudence, or self-love, 
is distinguished from its rightful superior, tl*e moral faculty, in 
this, — that it has regard only to the outward consequences of 
actions. It governs and directs the desires and affections with 
a view to the effects, whether near or remote, which their in- 

23* 



270 THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN. 

dulgence will have upon our future welfare. Its functions, 
therefore, are rational, but not properly moral ; while the mo- 
tives that it governs, as has been shown, are animal, for they 
are common to man and the brute. Prudence never considers 
the nature of the motive in itself, before it passes into action, 
but only questions whether it may be indulged to advantage in 
respect to the events which will follow its indulgence. . It is the 
servant of conscience, then, which never looks beyond the inner- 
man, and never speaks but with absolute authority. 

TJie affections evince benevolent design. — Before considering 
the nature and functions of conscience, which is the only point 
wanting to complete our survey of the moral nature of man, it 
remains to be seen whether the affections are so constituted as 
to afford any indications of the goodness and the will of the 
Deity. As they are primitive in their character, or parts of the 
original constitution of our being, whatever adaptations may be 
found in them to the situation and wants of man are just 
as much proofs of design, as the most curious and useful 
contrivances in our animal frame. If they are found to work 
together, so that the ends toward which one is impelled by them 
severally do not conflict, but harmonize, and the general result 
is conduct which tends to the good both of the individual and 
the race, the arrangement certainly shows the wisdom and 
benevolence of the Designer even more clearly than these are 
seen in the material universe. If a finer analysis should show 
that some of the feelings in question are not original, but ac- 
quired, — that is, that they are not implanted at first in the 
infant mind, but necessarily spring up afterwards, under the influ- 
ences to which that mind is always exposed, — this will make no 
difference as to the force or relevancy of the argument. It is 
enough for our purpose, that the affection is necessarily devel- 
oped sooner or later, and that it tends to good. It may be, for 
instance, that many of the kindly sentiments which are usually 
distinguished by different names spring from the same root, and 
are, in truth, but various forms of one primitive feeling ; their 
subsequent divergence may be accounted for by the association 
of ideas, or that law of our nature which often transfers attach- 



THE ACTIVE TOWERS OF MAN. 271 

ment from the end to the means. As the miser loves gold at 
first only for the pleasures that it will purchase, but finally for 
its own sake, so it may be, that friendship is but the transfer to 
persons of the feelings of complacency and enjoyment first 
produced by the sense of mutual obligation, and by the wish for 
their recurrence. Thus there may be a selfish element in the 
emotion at first ; but it purifies itself by indulgence and habit, 
and is not perfected till it amounts to self-sacrifice. 

It is obvious enough, that the affections of kindred, especially 
those of parent and child, are chiefly useful for the preservation 
of the race ; and this we may suppose to be the leading purpose 
of their creation. But observe, further, how they cooperate with 
the social feeling, and first make society possible, by affording a 
type of it in the family. Submission to paternal authority 
paves the way for obedience to a political head ; and the love of 
kindred needs but little expansion to become a love of country. 
Since the affections weaken as they expand, the most general 
of all, philanthropy or universal benevolence, is quickened and 
made intense by sympathy, a principle which is as unquestion- 
ably primitive or innate as the love of offspring, and is so uni- 
versal and salutary in its operation, that an eminent moralist 
has taken it to be the foundation of our ethical nature, or the 
fountain of all the virtues. It is the proper antagonist or cor- 
rective of selfishness, as under its impulse we instinctively make 
the sorrows and pleasures of others our own, and in turn feel 
our own joys heightened, and sufferings diminished, through the 
consciousness that they are shared by our neighbors. The 
endowment of the human mind with this principle alone, peculiar 
and striking as its effects are seen to be when we reflect upon 
them, seems to me as plain an indication of the benevolence of 
the Deity, and of his will that men should cultivate kindness and 
affection for each other, as the explicit enunciation of the same 
truths in Scripture. 

Respective claims of the different affections. — All the rela- 
tions in which we stand to our fellow-beings have separate 
affections corresponding to them ; and our sense of the duties 
which are incumbent upon us in each case, is developed and 



272 THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN. 

confirmed by this association. The strength of the affection may 
generally be taken as a safe measure of the duty. Parental love 
is stronger than friendship ; sympathy with distress is more 
vivid than sympathy with enjoyment; the love of family is more 
powerful than the love of country ; and the love of country, again, 
is more urgent than universal benevolence. Few will deny, that 
the scale of duties exactly corresponds to this gradation; so 
that, even if reason did not operate to show the comparative 
utility of the performance of these duties, we should have what 
might be called an instinctive appreciation of their relative im- 
portance. Theorists, it is true, have often tried to invert this 
natural order of the virtues ; but, as might be expected, with 
small success. Thus, circumstances led the ancients to ex- 
aggerate the merits of patriotism; and even Plato held the 
opinion, that the indulgence of the domestic affections unfitted 
men for the discharge of their political duties ; he went so far 
as to propose, on this account, that children should be separated 
from their parents immediately after birth, and brought up at 
the public expense. The enthusiasm of modern times has 
taken a somewhat different course ; universal philanthropy is 
now the fashionable virtue, and it is preached up to an extent 
that throws all the most private affections into the shade, even 
if it does not menace their extinction. But the duties which lie 
within the narrowest circle are most frequent in their recur- 
rence, and so tend to keep up the habit of virtue ; while the 
benevolent feeling which can take in no less an object than the 
whole human race, for want of striking occasions on which to 
manifest itself, is apt to be wasted in speculation and magnificent 
professions. There is deep meaning in the language of our 
Saviour, when he inculcates love to all mankind under the figure 
of love to our neighbor. 

Lofty and abstract principles not needed for every-day guid- 
ance. — Be not always eager, then, to direct your course only by 
some lofty, abstract, and distant principles, to the disregard of 
the humbler and more practical rules of morals which shine 
directly around and near our daily life. This is the folly of 
attempting to steer always by the stars, though the coast be 



THE ACTIVE POWERS OP MAN. 273 

near at hand, and the low, familiar beacons on it, if we will only 
heed them, will guide us safely into port. And do not, if you 
get into difficulty by acting in this manner, lay all the blame 
upon the stars ; they shine in their proper places, but we have 
no instruments nice enough to take their precise bearings, where 
a very slight error might lead to fatal •consequences. High 
principles are always right ; but we make egregious mistakes in 
attempting to act upon them on slight and familiar occasions, 
when there are less ambitious, but safer, rules of guidance at 
hand, if we will only heed them. These lofty maxims come 
into play but seldom, — on great occasions ; and even then, they 
serve only as comprehensive precepts for the general formation 
of our hearts and characters, and not as precise rules of con- 
duct, that are serviceable on particular emergencies. We look 
to the stars for pilotage when we are in the midst of a broad 
and trackless ocean, and no landmarks are in sight ; and they 
show us only the general direction in which we ought to steer. 
When the breakers are close around us, it is no time to look 
aloft. Goethe gives good advice : — If perplexed by the many 
calls that are made upon us, and by conflicting rules of life, let 
us always do first the nearest duty ; when this is finished, the 
others will already have become clearer. 

The affections indicate their objects. — The affections, like the 
desires, create a feeling of uneasiness and discontent in the 
absence of their respective objects, and prompt to exertion for 
the supply of the deficiency. The love of friends is a craving 
which makes itself more or less distinctly known according to 
the experience which we have had of companionship. " As 
the lamb," says an able writer, " when it strikes with the fore- 
head while yet unarmed, proves that it is not its weapons which 
determine its instincts, but that it has preexistent instincts suited 
to its weapons, so, when we see an animal deprived of the sight 
of its fellows cling to a stranger, or disarm by its caresses the 
rage of an enemy, we perceive the workings of a social instinct, 
not only not superinduced by external circumstances, but mani- 
festing itself in spite of circumstances which are adverse to its 
operation. The same remark may be extended to man ; when 



274 THE ACTIVE POWERS OF MAN. 

in solitude he languishes, and, by making companions of the 
lower animals, or by attaching himself to inanimate objects, 
strives to fill up the void of which he is conscious." The feel- 
ing is blind, indeed ; instinct in animals, and reason in man, 
alone can supply the means of satisfying the want ; but we 
know that there is a want, and that the uneasiness will remain 
till it is gratified. 

A still more striking instance of this truth may be found in 
the religious sentiment, to which I have already often alluded. 
Man is created with a capacity and inclination for worship, with 
a deep feeling of veneration, which finds no appropriate object 
on which to expend itself among the persons and things with 
whom he is associated on earth, but constantly seeks for such 
an object, and usually finds it, in the conception of some spiritual 
existence higher and holier than any created being. From this 
fact alone can we explain the endless variety of religious sys- 
tems which have obtained in the world, no nation or racje hav- 
ing ever been discovered, which had no form of religious wor- 
ship. The savage makes his idol of a block or stone. The 
half-enlightened barbarian finds a Divinity all around him, and 
peoples the mountains, the streams, and the forests with their 
attendant deities. When more cultivated, his thirst for knowl- 
edge leads him to study the heavens, and the sun, moon, and 
stars become his gods. Finally, whether as the last triumph of 
the unaided intellect or by special revelation, the sublime doc- 
trine of monotheism is preached to the world, and calls forth the 
purest form and highest degree of reverence of which the 
human heart is capable. 



THE NATUKE OF CONSCIENCE. 275 



CHAPTER III. 

THE NATURE AND FUNCTIONS OF CONSCIENCE. 

Summary of the last chapter. — I endeavored to show, in the 
last chapter, from a comparison of the human faculties with those 
of the brutes, that discipline, or self-development, is the great 
end of our existence upon earth ; mere enjoyment, or the con- 
scious gratification of desire, being only a secondary aim. The 
prevalence of law, or the uniformity of causation, in the mate- 
rial universe, is not intended merely to uphold and continue this 
universe, — an object which might be accomplished far more 
easily and directly, — but to operate as a means for this educa- 
tion of man ; that is, to guide the conduct of a being who is not, 
like the brutes, conducted blindfold and unconsciously to the 
performance of every work that is necessary for the continua- 
tion and welfare of his species, but is rendered capable, through 
freewill, judgment, and forethought, of acting for himself. An 
examination of the lower motive powers of the human mind — 
the appetites, affections, and desires, — was intended to prove 
that they are mere blind impulses, or springs of activity, differ- 
ing from each other in strength, but having regard only to their 
own immediate gratification ; the objects of them being sought 
invariably as ends, not as means. So far as man is under their 
guidance, he has no superiority over the other orders of the 
animal creation. Prudence, or self-love, is the first element of 
his intellectual being ; the office « of this faculty is to restrain 
the primitive impulses and desires, to ascertain the relative im- 
portance of the ends towards which they are directed, and thus 
to subject the lower to the higher, and to make all of them con- 
duce to the working out of that scheme of happiness, or general 
well-being, which has been devised by the intellect. 

Man as a rational and prudent being. — Here, then, man first 
appears in his distinctive character as a rational being. He is 



276 THE NATURE OF CONSCIENCE. 

not yet a moral one. His own happiness is the highest end 
that is yet in view, and all things are judged or estimated by 
their relative fitness to promote this single object. They are 
compared with each other, not as good or evil, but as expedient 
or injurious. The desires and affections are not considered in 
themselves, or with reference to their inherent character, but 
are viewed only indirectly, through the outward consequences 
which will result from their indulgence. There is room enough 
for the exercise of freewill, even if we look only to these exter- 
nal results. The immediate impulse, or passion of the moment, 
which always determines the action of the brute, is checked or 
restrained by man, till he can see the probable effect of giving 
way to it. At least, this is what he is capable of doing, and 
what he must do, if he would exercise those prerogatives of his 
nature through which alone he is placed at the head of the ani- 
mal creation. 

Man as a moral being. — But is this all ? Have we com- 
pleted the description of human nature, when man is made to 
appear as a being endowed with reason and foresight, free to 
act, and able to learn through experience what actions will most 
effectually promote his present and future happiness? The 
consciousness of every individual will answer, that it is not all ; 
— that there is an element of our nature, which excels 'prudence, 
more than prudence excels animal instinct or passion. This 
principle extends its jurisdiction over our whole being, claim- 
ing authority to control and subdue the promptings of self-love 
as absolutely as it overrules the appetites and desires. By the 
side of prudence, or above it, it introduces the novel conception 
of duty, or moral obligation ; over personal happiness, as an ob- 
ject of effort and a guide to action, it places the idea of absolute 
right. Putting aside the consideration of external things, it 
erects its throne in the soul of man, and judges, not the outward 
act, but the motives and intentions which lead to it and constitute 
its moral character. Dealing thus exclusively with conceptions 
of the intellect, or pure ideas, all contingency or uncertainty dis- 
appears from its decisions, and the sentence which it pro- 
nounces is as unchangeable as the purposes of the Almighty. 



THE NATURE OF CONSCIENCE. 277 

It supplies the medium and the standard of judgment through 
which we regard our own conduct and that of our fellow-beings, 
and form our notions of the attributes of God. Here, then, is 
the proper foundation of Natural Religion. Natural Theology, 
winch is the product of the intellect, makes us acquainted with 
the being and the natural attributes of the Deity, such as his 
infinite duration, power, and wisdom, merely as facts of science, 
or truths for contemplation. Natural Religion, proceeding from 
conscience, makes known to us his moral nature, his purposes 
and will, and so terminates, not in knowledge, but in action. 

It is difficult to explain the nature and functions of conscience, 
without seeming to dwell on mere truisms, or to adopt an ab- 
struse and technical phraseology, which will tend rather to 
confuse than to rectify our notions of the subject. The terms 
expressive of moral distinctions, and of our feelings in regard to 
them, have so passed into common use as an integral part of all 
languages, and we have so frequent occasion for them both in 
writing and conversation, that it is not an easy task to call 
attention to the fundamental facts in our constitution which 
they signify, or to imagine what the nature of man would be, or 
how it would appear, if it were suddenly deprived of the moral 
faculty altogether, so that these words and phrases should no 
longer convey any intelligible meaning. Yet this is what is 
necessary to be done, before we can gain a clear conception of 
the office of conscience, or of the nature of the addition which it 
makes to the merely animal and the merely intellectual part of 
our being. To analyze, or otherwise describe, the ideas of right 
and wrong, is quite as difficult as to furnish correct and lucid 
definitions of the particles, or connecting links of speech, which 
we learn to apply, through long experience, with great precis- 
ion, though their very commonness makes it hard to show what 
is their exact meaning. The particles themselves enter into 
every definition we can form of them. So we cannot show what 
the dictates of conscience are, without presupposing that every one 
has a conscience, and can listen to its voice. My object is, to 
show the importance and the distinctive character of this ethi- 
cal element in the human constitution ; that it is not blended 

24 



278 THE NATURE OF CONSCIENCE. 

with, or made up from, our other faculties, but is original and 
peculiar ; that it makes a large addition to the stock of our ideas 
derived from other sources, and in fact modifies and controls 
the whole nature of man. 

Increase of knowledge by the addition of a new sense. — It is 
not easy, perhaps, to imagine how our perceptions of external 
objects would be aifected, if the number of the senses were sud- 
denly increased, and, through the addition of another organ, we 
were enabled to look into the internal constitution of things, of 
which we have now only a superficial knowledge. We may 
form some idea, however, of the change that would thus be pro- 
duced, by considering the case of a person born blind, and 
remaining so for many years. To him, the word color has ab- 
solutely no meaning, and no combination of words, no illustra- 
tions drawn from the ideas furnished by the other senses, could 
ever give him even the remotest conception of what the word 
signifies. It is said, that such a person, being once asked what 
idea he had of an object colored red, answered, that he thought 
it must resemble the sound of a trumpet ; and this reply, ex- 
travagant as it seems, really comes as near the truth as any 
which the most gifted intellect, under such circumstances, ever 
has given, or ever can give. Now suppose, that from a human 
being who has long labored under this awful privation, the veil 
should in one moment be removed, that the scales should fall 
from his eyes, and for the first time in his life, he should be able 
. to see. For the first time, upon his aching and astonished sense, 
bursts the glorious prospect of this green earth, its hills, plains, 
woods, and waters, with their thousand hues, and, bending over 
all, the blue arch of heaven, relieved only by vast folds of white 
cloud, lit up by the intolerable splendor of a noonday sun, or, at 
eve, " thick inlaid with patines of bright gold." The rush of 
overwhelming sensations that would oppress and burden his 
spirit under such circumstances, could be adequately described 
only in the poet's inspired language : — 

" He looked ; 
Ocean and earth, the solid frame of earth, 
And ocean's liquid mass beneath him lay, 



THE NATURE OF CONSCIENCE. 279 

In gladness and deep joy Sound needed none, 

Nor any voice of joy ; his spirit drank 
The spectacle ; sensation, soul, and form 

All melted into him In such high hour 

Of visitation from the living God, 
Thought was not ; in enjoyment it expired." 

The addition to his stock of knowledge would not cease with 
the first view of this grand spectacle, or be limited to ideas of 
color alone. How long, it has been asked, would it take, for a 
person born blind , to acquire, by the unaided sense of touch, a 
complete idea of the front of a large Gothic cathedral, with its 
profusion of ornament and minuteness of tracery ? The power 
of vision would increase a thousand-fold the aptitude of this 
other sense to convey the information that is really peculiar to 
it, though it is now so quickly suggested by visual sensations, 
that it seems to us attributable to the eye alone. Strictly speak- 
ing, as I explained in a former chapter, we see nothing but 
color ; the ideas of distance, magnitude, and shape, which seem 
to be derived immediately from sight, being in truth first com- 
municated to us through touch, or what has been called the 
muscular sense, and are afterwards suggested to the eye through 
the varieties of tint, of light and shade, with which they are 
found to be invariably associated. Then, as the education of 
the newly acquired sense was gradually perfected, it would 
become the constantly enlarging inlet of new ideas, till all the 
knowledge previously acquired from other sources should seem 
as nothing, when compared with the flood of information thus 
swiftly, and without effort, conveyed to the mind by a new organ 
of perception. It will hardly be deemed too fanciful to add, 
that if, in a future state of being, our power of acquiring 
knowledge is to be immeasurably increased, we can imagine no 
more direct mode of effecting this end, than by the endowment 
of the soul with new organs of sense ; or rather, by stripping it 
entirely of the opaque and perishable covering of clay that now 
limits its perceptions and veils its glories, and in which the 
senses that we now possess are but narrow loopholes, through 
which we catch faint glimpses of the universe that God has 
made. 



280 THE NATURE OF CONSCIENCE. 

The addition of conscience equivalent to the creation of a new 
sense. — To apply this illustration to the subject before us, I 
say that the situation of the intellect which had never known 
the eye for its minister, or as an inlet of knowledge, would be 
but a faint parallel of the condition of the soul, or the whole 
man, on whom the light of conscience never beamed, and who, 
consequently, has no moral ideas whatever, but is as ignorant 
of the meaning of right and wrong, duty and obligation, as the 
man born blind is of color. The ideas, conceptions, or feelings, 
— call them what you may, — which come to us through this 
source, are as peculiar and distinctive, as impossible to be de- 
rived from any other fountain than that which actually does 
furnish them, as are the sensations of vision. They enter into 
and influence all our deliberations ; they mould our judgments 
of our fellow-beings and of ourselves ; they furnish a new guide 
to conduct ; they lend a new aspect to life. I do not speak 
now only of those over whose actions and thoughts they habit- 
ually exercise a strong influence. I do not speak only of good 
men, or of any class of men, as distinguished from others ; I 
speak of all human beings, of man himself, and of that which 
makes him what he is, — a man, and not a brute. Human 
nature is essentially moral, and we can no more put off, or lay 
aside, even for a time, this attribute of our being, than we can 
discard reason and take instinct in its place. There are im- 
moral men, who hear the voice of conscience, but heed it not ; 
but there is no such thing as an amoral man, to whom con- 
science speaks not at all. At any rate, no such being can be 
found out of a madhouse ; and even there, what we see is not 
so much the absolute privation of the rational and moral facul- 
ties, as the awful spectacle of reason and conscience alike in 
ruins. 

Instances of ideas and distinctions perceived by conscience 
alone. — Let me try to illustrate this point ; though, for the 
reason already mentioned, it is hard to put it in a clear light for 
those who are not accustomed to abstractions, without seeming 
to dwell upon facts which are too obvious for notice. Suppose, 
then, that two persons, in whom we are equally interested, 



THE NATURE OF CONSCIENCE. 281 

receive each an injury of the same magnitude, and attended 
with precisely similar results ; let the two cases, in fine, be en- 
tirely parallel, except in this single particular, that in the one, 
the injury done was wilful, wanton, and unprovoked, while in 
the other, it was wholly accidental. Observe that the supposed 
distinction between the two cases rests upon no outward fact, 
— upon nothing visible to sense, but upon the secret motives 
and intentions of the authors of the deed, — upon what was 
passing in their minds before the blows were struck. Yet all 
mankind acknowledge this difference to be real and vitally im- 
portant; they allow it to exercise entire control over their 
judgment of the two transactions, over the opinions which they 
form and express of them, and over their subsequent feelings 
towards the agents of the mischief. In every language that is 
spoken upon the earth, there are words to express the difference 
between simple harm and positive wrong. We can easily im- 
agine a person wicked and brutal enough to commit the injury 
in the causeless manner first mentioned; but we cannot imagine 
any human being either bad or stupid enough to be affected in 
precisely the same manner in the two cases, and to see only 
equal cause for blame and praise in them. An animal grazing 
in the field might turn an equally careless eye upon the out- 
ward tokens of the harm done in both instances ; and if we 
could suppose its instinct to be so far supplanted by reason that 
it could know the one deed to be intentional, and the other acci- 
dental, we should still believe that it would retain its indif- 
ference, unless, by a further change in its nature, the gift of 
moral, should be added to that of intellectual perception. My 
point is, that conscience differs as widely from reason, as rea- 
son does from instinct. 

We may take another instance from the affection of general 
benevolence, or the desire of doing good to mankind. This is a 
primitive or natural impulse, somewhat strengthened by sym- 
pathy, which seeks its own end without regard to any ulterior 
gratification, and, when pure . and unmixed, without reference 
to any higher law or motive. The private relations between 
the two parties, the giver and receiver of the benefit, do not 
24* 



282 THE NATURE OF CONSCIENCE. 

increase or diminisli the addition that is made to the stock of 
human happiness. We sympathize involuntarily with happi- 
ness conferred ; we rejoice at the opening of new avenues to 
human enjoyment. Now, suppose that the means of pleasure 
thus bestowed were not the rightful property of the donor, that 
they were not his to give. He had them only in trust from one 
to whom they properly belonged, and who would very certainly 
have made a bad use of them, — have devoted them only to 
selfish purposes, or perhaps to doing evil instead of good to his 
fellow-men, if they had remained in his possession. No matter ; 
justice requires that they should have been restored to him, to 
be squandered or misused as he saw fit. Here, then, the feel- 
ings of justice and benevolence are in conflict ; and what human 
being hesitates to admit that the claims of the former are supe- 
rior ? I have intentionally taken an instance which proves that 
mere philanthropy, or the desire of promoting the happiness of 
others, though it is the most estimable of the affections, is not 
the whole duty of man ; and, consequently, that the affections 
alone, being impulsive and irrational in their nature, are an 
insufficient guide to conduct. There are many, perhaps, who, 
in the case supposed, would sacrifice justice to benevolence ; 
but they would still be conscious — if not at the moment, at any 
rate, after time had come for reflection — that they had acted 
wrong. 

Conscience the sole voucher of its own authority. — What is 
this sentiment or idea of moral wrong, which arises not merely 
in the two instances I have mentioned, but so frequently in 
every healthy mind as to influence our conduct in all the rela- 
tions of life? It surely is not conveyed to us through the 
senses ; nor is it the offspring of the affections or desires, the 
impulsive part of our nature, to which it is frequently set in 
opposition. Is it the product of intellect, then ? The office of 
this faculty, we know, is to discover truth, to discern the fitness 
of means to ends, to perceive the relation of premises to conclu- 
sions. It has nothing to do with action, but is limited entirely 
to contemplation. In the first case mentioned, reason might 
inform us of the fact, that the one deed was purposed, and the 



THE NATURE OF CONSCIENCE. 283 

other casual ; this truth would be learned by inference from 
certain outward circumstances that enable us to judge of the 
intentions of the parties. The intellect stops here ; the judg- 
ment subsequently passed, the idea of guilt or innocence that 
supervenes, is not related to the knowledge thus obtained, as an 
inference is to its premises, or as an end to means employed. 
Why is intentional harm done to a fellow-being a wrong ? We 
cannot tell. Why are the claims of justice superior to those 
of benevolence? We cannot tell. But we know that it is 
so, not only in the judgment of men, but in the councils of 
God. 

And further, the idea of retribution or punishment arises after 
that of acknowledged wrong, even when the injured person is 
beyond the reach of reparation, and when we are not looking to 
the reformation of the guilty. Human legislation, indeed, is 
properly confined to these two ends, and to the protection of 
society. Human laws aim to provide for the redress of injuries, 
the reformation of the criminal, and the welfare of all classes ; 
but they seek to accomplish these ends at the expense of the 
offender. It is just, it is right, that the wrongdoer should suf- 
fer : — we admit this principle intuitively, though it is directly 
opposed to the dictates of sympathy and natural benevolence, 
which aim to prevent all suffering. The decisions of conscience, 
then, are authoritative and supreme. It overlooks and controls 
the lower motives to action, even those which are most amiable 
or excellent ; its voice is never heard but in tones of absolute 
command. " If it had might, as it has right, it would govern 
the world." 

Conscience infallible within its proper sphere. — This brings 
me to the next characteristic of the moral faculty in its proper 
sphere, — the absolute certainty of its decisions. I say " in its 
proper sphere," because, as we had occasion to remark in the 
former Part, the undue extension of the commands of con- 
science beyond their proper subjects, the motives and intentions 
of men, to the external acts or occurrences through which those 
intentions are manifested, often creates doubts, and gives oppor- 
tunity to question its absolute veracity. But in its own domain, 



284 THE NATURE OF CONSCIENCE. 

in the sanctuary of the soul, where all thoughts and motives are 
judged, it is an undoubted sovereign. The certainty of its de- 
cisions is like that which belongs to the convictions of the under- 
standing in regard to abstract truth. Right and wrong are not 
interchangeable even in idea; we cannot imagine, we cannot 
even conceive, of any instance in which the one should be sub- 
stituted for the other. As it is not within the power even of 
Omnipotence to reverse the abstract laws of number and space, 
so it is not his to alter the moral relations of thoughts and acts, 
and our judgments of them, through which we look up rever- 
ently to his throne, and form our conceptions of infinite holi- 
ness, justice, and truth personified in him. This is only saying, 
that it is impossible for the Divine nature to act contrary to it- 
self. The sublime exclamation of Pythagoras, when contem- 
plating the immutable relations of space, " God himself geome- 
trizes," expresses but feebly the absolute trust with which the 
soul reposes on those intuitions of eternal and necessary truth, 
which are vouchsafed to us as the foundations of our moral and 
intellectual being. 

Conscience contrasted with taste in respect to the immutability 
of its decisions. — We may gain a clearer idea of the infalli- 
bility of conscience, by comparing it with the other capacities 
of our nature, with which, at first sight, it seems most nearly 
allied. Take the emotions of taste, for instance. The contem- 
plation of an exquisite work of art, or of grand and striking 
scenery in nature, affects us with a lively and agreeable feeling, 
which we call the perception of beauty or sublimity. All men 
are subject to it, though in different degrees, depending on the 
cultivation of the taste. But there is nothing absolute or im- 
mutable in our ideas of the qualities which call it forth. The 
child is delighted with that which appears to the adult as gaudy, 
puerile, or unnatural. Nay, there is a " want of agreement as 
to the presence and existence of beauty in particular objects 
among men whose organization is perfect, and who are plainly 
possessed of the faculty, whatever it may be, by which beauty 
is discerned. One man sees it perpetually, where to another it 
is quite invisible, or even where its reverse seems to be con- 



THE NATURE OF CONSCIENCE. 285 

spicuous. Nor is this owing to the insensibility of either of the 
parties ; for the same contrariety exists where both are keenly 
alive to the influences of the beauty they respectively discern. 
The gardens, the furniture, the dress, which appeared beautiful 
in the eyes of our grandfathers, are odious and ridiculous in 
ours. ISay, the difference of rank, education, or employments, 
gives rise to the same diversity of sensation." And even if all 
men could be brought to unanimity upon this point, we could 
still conceive of such an alteration in their capacity of discerning 
beauty, that what is now most pleasing to them should become 
disagreeable, and the reverse. In fine, the beauty or sublimity 
which we discern is in our own minds ; and we do not know, 
that is, we cannot be sure, that there is any thing corresponding 
to them in the world without, or in the intrinsic nature of 
things. 

But it is not so with our perceptions of moral good and evil. 
Try to imagine that the relations of right and wrong are re- 
versed, — that it is just to deceive, or to withhold from another 
his own, — that it is commendable to inflict a wanton injury 
upon a fellow-being, — and that falsehood is more praiseworthy 
than truth. You cannot do it. The principles which forbid 
such a reversal of judgment are erected, whether you will or 
no, whether your conduct conforms to them or not, into abso- 
lute standards in your own minds, to which you refer every 
motive and action for approbation or censure. The ideas of 
right, of duty, of moral obligation, are inwrought with our in- 
most being, and we can no more conceive that they are subjec- 
tive only, or without a basis in the essential nature of things, 
than we can imagine the annihilation of time and space. It is 
conceivable, indeed, though the supposition is a violent one, that 
the constitution of our minds should be altered far enough for 
us to see these things reversed, and to imagine that injustice 
and falsehood were meritorious. Just so we admit the possibil- 
ity of insanity. But we cannot admit that such a change 
would be in the direction of the truth, or that, wdien it had 
taken place, we should not be laboring under a fatal error. 
Right and duty, as we now perceive them, are absolute concep- 



286 THE NATURE OF CONSCIENCE. 

tions, and must exist as they are, wholly irrespective of the 
manner in which they are viewed by different minds. 

Moral obligation universally admitted to be supreme. — The 
correctness and the unanimity of men's moral judgments must 
be clearly distinguished from their universal acknowledgment 
of the supremacy of moral obligation. There is considerable 
diversity of opinion in the former respect, in the estimate which 
we may form of the moral character of certain actions, and es- 
pecially of the relative importance of certain duties ; though 
men's ideas on this subject usually converge, just in proportion 
as they become enlightened, and inform their minds by reflec- 
tion and experience. Savages may deem it right to plunder 
and to kill ; the Spartans taught their children to steal ; the 
ancients generally held that falsehood and deceit were justifi- 
able, if practised for the public good, and not for one's individ- 
ual advantage. But none of these doubted that the right, as 
they esteemed it, was obligatory ; they acknowledged with one 
voice, that they were bound to practise it. The words duty and 
law had as much meaning and force in their ears, as they have 
among the most enlightened and most Christian communities of 
our own times. It is this sense of obligation, this recognition 
of an act as something which ought to be done, or to be left 
undone, which is the capital fact in our moral being ; it is the 
foundation and superstructure of our moral nature. It is not 
an idea furnished by the senses, or in any way suggested by 
sensation. Men may differ in applying this idea of duty ; they 
may consider one or another act as binding upon them ; but 
they never fail to recognize obligation somewhere, to acknowl- 
edge its rightful supremacy, and to distinguish it clearly from 
the feeling of compulsion, or restraint. And the instances even 
of mistaken application of the idea of duty are so few and un- 
important, that they may properly be viewed as perversions of 
the moral faculty, rather than as proofs of its original incapacity 
or blindness. Morality, as a general rule, needs not to be 
taught, but to be guarded against the effects of wrong teaching. 
The unperverted conscience of a child shrinks from the act 
which its fanatical parents attempt to impose as a duty. 



THE NATURE OF CONSCIENCE. 287 

Attempts to account for the supremacy of conscience. — Butler 
and Mackintosh, with other writers upon the theory of ethics, 
have been much exercised in the attempt to find a basis for the 
supremacy of conscience, or a reason for the despotic authority 
which it claims over the other principles and motives of our 
nature. They thought it necessary to justify the overruling 
and despotic influence, which the moral faculty claims over the 
whole man, but does not always succeed in enforcing, since the 
lower propensities often exceed it in strength. I have an im- 
pulse, it is true, to be just to my fellow man ; but I have also an 
impulse to gratify my anger, to pamper my appetites, to secure 
the means of selfish enjoyment, and even to assist the unfortu- 
nate with the property which happens to be in my hands, though 
it really belongs to another. These two impulses often clash, 
and the latter, which is rightfully the inferior one, frequently 
gets the upperhand. Why, then, do I believe that it is rightfully 
inferior, or why do I feel compunction after it has triumphed ? 
If the sentiment of duty comes in conflict with a feeling so 
powerful as self-love, or so amiable as benevolence, though I 
have a distinct consciousness that the former ought to prevail, 
it is well to see if there are any good grounds for this assumed 
superiority, and thus to fortify the demands of conscience by 
satisfying the reason. 

Sir James Mackintosh thought that he had found a basis for 
this claim of supreme authority in the fact, that conscience acts 
directly upon the inner man, having its throne within the soul, 
while all the other impulses and desires point to outward objects. 
The sense of duty governs the motives, intentions, and dispo- 
sitions of men. Hence it is universal, or it regulates the whole 
conduct and character ; while the objects of the other propensi- 
ties are particular, as well as external. If I yield to anger, for 
instance, while all my other passions and appetites are restrain- 
ed by the law of conscience, the act of resentment is perceived 
to violate the harmony of the system ; it is an act of disorder, 
which will be recognized as such when the temporary excitement 
subsides. Again, the objects of the passions and desires being 
external, I must use means for their gratification. I may not 



288 THE NATURE OF CONSCIENCE. 

be able to gratify my appetite, because I cannot find the means 
of doing so. But I can always satisfy my conscience, because 
here no means are needed ; the will, the intention, is enough ; 
duty asks nothing more. The failure of the intention may cause 
sorrow, but cannot produce remorse. Hence, conscience is in- 
dependent, or sufficient unto itself; while the gratification of 
every other impulse depends on outward circumstances. Pas- 
sion often defeats itself ; the desires remain unsatisfied ; appe- 
tite cannot obtain its appropriate food ; self-love not infrequently 
brings its own punishment. But the sense of duty never fails, 
and yielding to it is at once success and enjoyment. 

Futility of these attempts. — These suggestions of an accom- 
plished moralist, though they illustrate the general subject, do 
not seem to me to throw much light upon the particular inquiry 
in which we are now engaged. It is true, that conscience is 
universal and independent, as well as supreme ; but it does not 
appear very clearly how the latter attribute is a consequence 
of the two former ones. Though I am independent, it does not 
follow that I am entitled to command ; though not subject to 
control, I may not be permitted to exercise it. Moreover, pru- 
dence, or an enlightened self-love, seems to have quite as wide 
a domain as the moral sense ; it also is universal, for it often 
assumes to regulate the whole conduct and character, with a 
view only to the individual's own future happiness. Yet no 
one thinks of saying that it is supreme. I need not dwell upon 
attempts less ingenious and plausible than that of Mackintosh 
to solve this problem, since all occasion for them disappears 
when we come to examine the subject more closely. 

The supremacy of conscience an idtimate fact. — A full analy- 
sis of our moral perceptions will show, if I mistake not, that the 
supremacy of conscience is an ultimate fact, and that we cannot 
go behind it, or give a reason for it, without reasoning in a 
circle, or virtually denying the very point we attempt to prove. 
To ask why I ought to obey the law of right, is, in truth, to sup- 
pose that there is some obligation of greater moment than the 
sense of duty, some consideration which needs to be alleged in 
its support, and thus to take for granted that it is not supreme. 



THE NATURE OF CONSCIENCE. 289 

We might as well ask a reason for our belief that every event 
must have a cause. 

Moral taste explained. — Certain motives and actions are 
made known to me, and recognized by conscience, as good and 
right. I may simply contemplate them with complacency and 
approbation, just as I am gratified with the view of a beautiful 
landscape, or struck with awe at the sight of the starry heavens. 
A kind of moral taste is thus formed, which is productive of as 
much enjoyment, when properly cultivated, as our sensibility to 
the other emotions of taste, or our capacity of receiving pleas- 
ure through the senses. Though I were incapable of action 
myself, and therefore should never have occasion to apply the 
epithets to my own conduct, I should still derive pleasure from 
awarding them to others, and from reflecting on their deeds 
which merit to be so distinguished. We see an obvious illustra- 
tion of this fact in the pleasure that we derive from fictitious 
representations of life, which call all our moral sentiments into 
play, though we are perfectly conscious at the time, that the 
incidents are imaginary. In reading a novel, or seeing a the- 
atrical performance, we are pained and disappointed, if the 
rules of " poetical justice," as it is termed, are not observed. It 
is a noble characteristic of the taste and conscience of man, that 
they require in art a closer adherence to the principles of the 
beautiful, the just, and the right, than we can reasonably expect 
to be exemplified in nature and life. The beau-ideal is not 
found in the world; poetical justice is confessedly unreal; it 
does not follow merit and demerit in this stage of existence. 
But the restraint of circumstances is not felt in the province of 
invention ; and where man is the creator, he becomes responsi- 
ble for the whole work. He is bound to " submit the shows of 
things to the desires of the mind." If he cannot embody in his 
work that perfect beauty and absolute right, of which we dream, 
and to which we are constantly reaching forward, he is under 
an obligation, at least, not to allow the virtuous to go finally 
unrewarded, nor the wicked to triumph. 

Moral taste shown to be insufficient. — But we shall have a 
most imperfect view of the action of the moral faculty, if we 

25 



290 THE NATURE OF CONSCIENCE. 

stop here. This merely intellectual view of right and wrong, 
this cool survey of motives and conduct in their ethical aspect, 
this feast of the moral sensibilities at the table of fiction, will be 
almost as profitless in its consequences, as it is meagre and un- 
satisfactory in point of scientific truth. "We must go back to 
the origin of these distinctions, to the primal revelations of con- 
science, and see where it is that the ideas of moral good and 
evil have their birth. What is most peculiar and original in 
the action of this faculty, and from which, indeed, all the other 
moral facts of our nature are but inferences and generalizations, 
is the impulse of duty, or the feeling of moral obligation. I am 
hound to act with justice and benevolence ; I ought to do right 
and to follow after truth. This sense of obligation, this recog- 
nition of an absolute and rightful command, having reference 
only to conduct, is what we call conscience, in its simplest and 
primitive meaning. The words right and wrong have no sig- 
nificance, except as convenient appellations afterwards given by 
the intellect to those deeds which I am thus bound to perform 
or abstain from. Merit and demerit signify only the feelings 
which arise in my mind according as this command has been 
obeyed or violated. We cannot analyze this feeling or idea of 
duty, for, being simple, it does not admit of resolution into parts, 
or explanation by any more obvious terms. To have it is to 
recognize its authority, for positive obligation is supreme in its 
very nature ; nothing can come in conflict with it but desire, 
which is no obligation at all. 

There is a confusion of speech, then, in asking why we are 
bound to comply with the requisitions of conscience ; it is re- 
quiring one to tell why it is a duty to perform a duty, — thus 
indicating a doubt whether there is any such thing as original 
and necessary obligation. Whatever answer is given, it is evi- 
dent that the question may be continually repeated. If it be said, 
for instance, that I must obey conscience because it is expedi- 
ent, or because it is conformable to the fitness of things, or to 
reason, or because it is the will of God, the question instantly 
recurs, Why am I obliged to do what is expedient, or to con- 
form to reason or the fitness of tilings, or to obey the will of 



THE NATURE OF CONSCIENCE. 291 

God ? The higher reason of man never thus returns in a circle 
upon itself, for ever seeking without coming to a knowledge of 
the truth. TThat we mean by asking in reference to any par- 
ticular action, Why is it a duty? — why ought I to perform it? 
is no more than this : — Prove to me that it is a duty ; only 
place it before me in so clear a light that my conscience shall 
recognize and approve it, and I ask for no higher sanction. The 
absolute obligation of the deed is then revealed to me. 

Right implies obligation. — This doctrine is very clearly and 
forcibly stated by Dr. Adams, a moralist of Oxford. "Right" 
says he, " implies duty in its idea. To perceive an action to be 
right, is to see a reason for doing it in the action itself, abstract- 
ed from all other considerations whatever ; and this perception, 
this acknowledged rectitude in the action, is the very essence 
of obligation, — that which commands the approbation and 
choice, and binds the conscience of every rational human being. 
Nothing can bring us under an obligation to do what appears to 
our moral judgment wrong. It may be supposed our interest 
to do this, but it cannot be supposed our duty. For, I ask, if 
some power, which we are unable to resist, should assume the 
command over us, and give us laws which are unrighteous and 
unjust, should we be under an obligation to obey him ? Should 
we not rather be obliged to shake off the yoke, and to resist 
such usurpation, if it were in our power ? However, then, we 
might be swayed by hope or fear, it is plain that we are under 
an obligation to right, which is antecedent, and in order and 
nature superior, to all other. Power may compel, interest may 
bribe, pleasure may persuade, but reason [conscience] only can 
oblige. This is the only authority which rational beings can 
own, and to which they owe obedience." 

All lesser obligations are resolvable into this primal idea of 
duty, and are, in truth, but the various forms which this idea as- 
sumes, when it is applied to the various relations and circum- 
stances of life. Thus, the state, the society, or the family, to 
which one belongs, is said to have authority over him, and he is 
bound to render obedience to that authority, and to its expressed 
will in the form of law. But so far as this obedience is not the 



292 THE NATURE OF CONSCIENCE. 

effect of compulsion or of the persuasion of interest, it is ren- 
dered only because reason brings the acts which are preserva- 
tive of such associations within the sphere of conscience, and this 
faculty makes them obligatory, in the proper sense of that word. 
Law itself, whether human or Divine, is but a generalization of 
the commands of conscience, and has no proper authority but 
what is derived from this source, however it may be surrounded 
with rewards and punishments, which are intended to act upon 
our prudence or self-love. It is this wide compass and cease- 
less application of the primitive sense of duty, which lends all 
its force to Wordsworth's magnificent exaggeration of the idea, 
in his Ode to this " stern daughter of the voice of God." 

" Thou dost preserve the Stars from wrong, 
And the most ancient Heavens, through Thee, are fresh and strong." 

Why law is applied metaphorically to physical events. — We 
see, then, how violent is the metaphor by which we apply the 
term law to the uninterrupted, or causal, succession of events in 
the physical world. We speak, for instance, of the constant 
movements of the planets in their courses as the consequence of 
the law of gravitation, — finding no figure more appropriate to 
express the immutable order of their motions, than to represent 
these vast orbs as voluntary agents, hearkening to the stern 
monitor within the breast, following its dictates with implicit 
obedience, and thus preserving the eternal harmony of the uni- 
verse. The awful supremacy of conscience is thus extended, 
though by a figure of speech, over the material creation ; and 
we mark our sense of the absolute character of moral obligation 
by applying it to what is most fixed and unchangeable among 
the works of God. 

Even bad men achiowledge conscience to be supreme. — I draw 
one other illustration of this subject from Dugald Stewart, in 
his fine remark, that " the supreme authority of conscience is 
felt and tacitly acknowledged by the worst, no less than by the 
best, of men ; for even they who have thrown off all hypocrisy 
with the world, are at pains to conceal their real character from 
their own eyes. No man ever, in soliloquy or private medita- 



THE NATURE OF CONSCIENCE. 293 

tion, avowed to himself that he was a villain ; nor do I believe 
that such a character as Joseph Surface, in the School for Scan- 
dal, (who is introduced as reflecting coolly on his own knavery 
and baseness, without any uneasiness but what arises from the 
dread of detection,) ever existed in the world. Such men prob- 
ably impose on themselves fully as much as they do upon 
others. Hence the various artifices of self-deceit, which But- 
ler has so well described in his discourses on that subject." 

" We may defend villany," says Lord Shaftesbury, as quoted 
by Dugald Stewart, " and cry up folly before the world. But 
to appear fools, madmen, or varlets to ourselves, and prove it to 
our own faces that we are really such, is insupportable. For 
so true a reverence has every one for himself, when he comes 
clearly to appear before his close companion, that he had rather 
profess the vilest things of himself in open company, than hear 
his character privately from his own mouth. So that we may 
readily from hence conclude, that the chief interest of ambition, 
avarice, corruption, and every sly insinuating vice, is to pre- 
vent this interview and familiarity of discourse, which is conse- 
quent upon close retirement and inward recess." 

The Moral distinguished from the Physical Sciences. — The 
metaphorical application of words, the frequent interchange of 
terms between the Moral and the Physical Sciences, has tended 
greatly to obscure and perplex the subject of which we are now 
treating, and to cover up some essential differences which would 
otherwise appear in the clearest light to the understanding. A 
statement of these differences and distinctions may serve to elu- 
cidate the theory of human nature, and to show how we are 
related to the natural world, at the same time that we are sub- 
jects of a moral government. The object of the physical sci- 
ences, and of the intellect generally in its searches after truth, 
is to answer the question, What is ? All degrees of probability 
or certainty attend our answers to this inquiry, and serve only 
to mark how successful we have been in the undertaking. We 
endeavor not only to ascertain facts, but to arrange and classify 
them with a view to their mutual relations ; and the use of gen- 
eral terms enables us to make comprehensive statements of the 

25* 



294 THE NATURE OF CONSCIENCE. 

results of our study, and to store them up in a form convenient 
for future reference. Such statements are often called laws, 
and are said to govern all the cases which are merely included 
under them. From the idea of government, we pass naturally 
to that of influence and production, or causation ; and the law, 
or general statement, is then said to cause all the particular facts 
which it comprehends. Unable to find the true cause, we as- 
sign a fictitious one, which is at first recognized by the under- 
standing to be fictitious, but which comes at last to claim as its 
own the character which it had only borrowed. 

The object of ethical science, and of the moral faculty gen- 
erally, is quite distinct from this ; here we ask, What ought to 
be? — our aim being, not so much to satisfy our curiosity, as to 
regulate our conduct. We seek to ascertain "the rules which 
ought to govern voluntary action, and to which those habitual 
dispositions of mind which are the source of voluntary actions 
ought to be adapted." The conception of duty, and of absolute 
right, which then comes before the mind, corresponds to noth- 
ing physical, and has no archetype in the external uni verse. 
We enter a new world here ; we may ask for the cause of a 
fact, an event ; but it is irrelevant and absurd to inquire after 
the cause of an obligation. Duty is not caused, for it never be- 
gan to be ; it has existed from eternity. We cannot even con- 
ceive of a period when justice was not, or will not be, obligatory 
upon every being capable of understanding what justice re- 
quires. Upon the idea or feeling expressed by the word ought 
the whole science of morals depends. It differs not in degree, 
but in kind, from desire and appetite, so that these can never 
really come in competition with it. In truth, it does not admit 
of degrees, for there are no half-way obligations ; conscience 
either speaks absolutely, or not at all. I am obliged either to 
cultivate a certain disposition of mind, or to repress it, if it be 
not indifferent, in a moral point of view, whether it be cultivated 
or not. The desires, on the other hand, exist in all conceivable 
degrees, from the faintest shade of inclination up to the strong 
passion which takes the reason prisoner. 

Source of uncertainty vr skepticism in morals, — It is only 



THE NATURE OF CONSCIENCE. 295 

when the dictates of conscience are drawn out into the form of 
propositions, and stated as general laws, that any question can 
arise as to their certainty. Even then, the question would not 
be hard to answer. The intellect, we know, must begin with 
propositions which it cannot prove, because nothing more evi- 
dent or certain can be found on which to rest the argument. 
That which is self-evident is not, surely, to be deemed inferior 
to that which requires to be supported by other evidence, before 
we can receive and act upon it. He who can seriously distrust 
the evidence of his senses, or doubt his own identity, or deny 
that every event must have a cause, must be permitted, also, to 
exercise his skepticism as to the grounds of morality, and to 
maintain that he sees no reason why we should sometimes be 
obliged to sacrifice ourselves for others, or to submit our com- 
passionate or benevolent impulses to the sense of duty and jus- 
tice. It would avail nothing, if we were to hold up general 
expediency, or the command of God, as such a reason. He 
who cannot recognize the independent nature and entire su- 
premacy of moral obligation, as such, will never yield to con- 
siderations like these, which have in fact no weight, unless a 
sense of duty be taken for granted. We cannot argue with those 
who will not first admit the principles upon which all reasoning 
is founded. 

But, fortunately for the world, skepticism in morals can never 
be any thing more than a diversion or a whim. The matter is 
exclusively a practical one. We are not concerned here about 
the truth of propositions, and therefore cannot be perplexed by 
the artifices of the logician and the sophist. Whether we know 
the meaning of words or not, we cannot but be conscious that 
we are urged to do and to refrain from doing certain things by 
a principle which is not coincident with self-love, but often runs 
counter to it, and assumes to moderate and restrain it with ab- 
solute authority. Call this principle what we may, its existence 
is a fact attested by consciousness ; and whether we submit to 
its guidance or not, we cannot but be conscious that it puts forth 
a higher claim to our obedience than all other motives and 



296 THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT. 

springs of action united. No one had a clearer perception of 
this fact, or avowed it more frankly, than Hume himself. 

". Those," says he, " who have denied the reality of moral 
distinctions- may be ranked among the disingenuous disputants ; 
nor is it conceivable, that any human creature could ever seri- 
ously believe that all characters and actions were alike entitled 
to the regard and affection of every one. 

" Let a man's insensibility be ever so great, he must often be 
touched with the images of right and wrong ; and let his preju- 
dices be ever so obstinate, he must observe that others are sus- 
ceptible of like impressions. The only way, therefore, of con- 
vincing an antagonist of this kind, is to leave him to himself. 
For, finding that nobody keeps up the controversy with him, it 
is probable he will at last, of himself, from mere weariness, come 
over to the side of common sense and reason." 



CHAPTER IV 

THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT. 

Summary of the last chapter. — The object of the last chapter 
was to explain the nature and operations of that faculty, by the 
possession of which, even more than by the gift of reason, man 
is raised above all the other orders of created being with which 
we are acquainted. Conscience, I endeavored to show, is the 
inlet of a new set of ideas, which differ as widely from those 
which are furnished by the intellect, as the perceptions of vision 
do from those of touch and hearing. The object of the intel- 
lect is truth ; that of conscience is duty. The former teaches 
us what is ; the latter shows us ivhat ought to he. The moral 



THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT. 297 

faculty is universal ; for the most depraved and wicked person 
that ever lived, is not ignorant of what the words ought and 
duty mean, though he may not heed them in his conduct. The 
uninstructed or perverted understanding may apply them 
wrongfully ; but, however applied, their obligatory or binding 
character is always recognized. The idea of duty or moral ob- 
ligation is simple or uncompounded ; it does not admit of defini- 
tion, because it is not susceptible of analysis, or of division into 
parts. Hence, it is not communicable by instruction ; if it did 
not already exist in the infant mind, all the teaching in the 
world could never place it there, — any more than mere words 
could inform a man what the color yellow is, if he had never 
seen a yellow object. In the latter case, indeed, the senses give 
us the necessary information ; having once seen the unclouded 
sky, or the distant hills, or the deep ocean, I can afterwards 
form a conception of them, and can then learn what the word 
blue signifies, or the objects to which it is applicable. Not so 
in the moral world ; sense renders no aid here. The primary 
application of the words right and wrong is not to visible or 
tangible things, or even to any outward act, but to the secret 
purposes of the heart ; for however strange or mischievous the 
deed may appear, as soon as we ascertain that it was uninten- 
tional, or that it proceeded from the best motives, we immedi- 
ately relieve the doer from any moral blame. Just as the un- 
derstanding discerns resemblance or contrariety between two 
ideas, does the moral faculty pronounce that truth-telling is 
right, and falsehood wrong ; the only distinction between the 
two cases is, that, in the former one, the mental act terminates 
when the judgment is formed, truth or knowledge being the 
only end in view ; while, in the latter, the conception of duty 
or moral obligation immediately rises, the judgment pointing 
directly to action. It is not properly a judgment, then, but 
a precept or command. I not only know that falsehood is 
wrong, but I feel that veracity is a duty, — that I am bound, on 
all occasions, to tell the truth. More properly speaking, indeed, 
the conception of duty is involved in the judgment of right, 
and forms a part of it ; to perceive the motive to be sinful, 



298 THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT. 

and to recognize the obligation to repress it, is one and the 
same act. 

It was remarked, further, that the paramount character of 
moral obligation over all other motives or incentives to conduct, 
is involved in the very idea of obligation. It is an impertinence 
to ask for a foundation for the supremacy of conscience. He 
who commands, indeed, assumes that he has authority ; and we 
often reasonably doubt the fact, and require him to show his 
commission. But in so doing, we virtually acknowledge that 
there is authority somewhere, that a higher power exists, whom 
we are bound to obey, and who is capable of delegating his 
right to command. Now it is only by a metaphor, though an 
apt and natural one, that we speak of the commands, or the 
voice, of conscience. It is the office of this faculty to create 
that primitive and simple feeling of obligation which is expressed 
by the word ought, and which alone gives to duty and authority 
any proper meaning. There is a common confusion of thought 
here. With regard to a particular act or duty, it is reasonable 
to inquire if I am under a moral obligation to perform or to 
cherish it ; but when this point is ascertained, to seek a* reason 
for that obligation, is to ask, why it is a duty to perform a duty, 
— which is nonsense. It is demonstrable that no answer can 
be given to the question which will prevent it from being in- 
stantly repeated. That what is right, is of higher authority 
than what is merely expedient, is evident from the simple fact, 
that right and obligation are correlative terms', or merely two as- 
pects of the same idea ; while obligation does not enter at all 
into the meaning of the word expedient. 

Obligation distinguished from constraint. — It is with great 
diffidence that I venture to differ on this point from so eminent 
an authority in ethical science as Sir James Mackintosh. But 
what he has here attempted to add to the theory of ethics as 
expounded by Bishop Butler, seems to me a violation of the 
simplicity and truth of the whole scheme, and, instead of fur- 
nishing a basis for the authoritative claims of conscience, to de- 
prive this faculty of that original and supreme authority which 
is its most striking characteristic. There is a fundamental dif- 



THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT. 299 

ference between the ideas of obligation and compulsion, which, 
though often lost sight of in the metaphorical use of language, 
is essential to any proper understanding of the subject. A 
subordinate officer may say, that he is obliged to obey the com- 
mands of his superior; but this is constraint, not duty ; because 
he knows, that if need were, a file of soldiers would enforce the 
command. On the other hand, the dictates of conscience are 
enforced by no power whatever. Any one may disobey them 
who will. But, even in the moment of disobedience, he is con- 
scious that he is violating an obligation, properly so called, 
which is in its very nature supreme.* We do not do right 
because God commands it, but God commands it because it is 
right. The idea of moral obligation, then, — I speak it rever- 
ently, — lies behind the authority of the Almighty, and is the 
only buttress of his throne. As for the other supports that 
have been devised for the sense of duty, — that the action is 
obligatory because it is expedient, or because it is conformable 
to reason, to order, or to the fitness of things, — they hardly 
merit notice. 

Abstract arguments a priori cannot prove the moral govern- 
ment of God. — And here I rest what I had to say upon the 
moral nature of man, as preparatory to the further inquiry 

* The word ought is the only one in our language which means, exclu- 
sively and unambiguously, to be held or bound in moral obligation, through the 
consciousness of a law of paramount authority. This also is the primary 
meaning of the word oblige ; but unfortunately, this word has come to have 
a secondary meaning, corresponding very nearly with must, and indicating 
physical necessity or compulsion ; as when we say that the commander of a 
besieged fortress is obliged to surrender when his means of defence are ex- 
hausted, or that the captain of a ship is obliged by adverse winds to move 
in a wrong direction. In all languages, words are found corresponding 
with ought, and with the primary meaning of oblige ; this may not be their 
sole meaning, but it is always one of their recognized significations. This 
fact indicates that the sense of moral obligation, wholly distinct from per- 
suasion or desire on the one hand, and from physical necessity on the other, 
is a part of the universal consciousness of men ; it is always recognized, 
though it is not always obeyed. As it is a simple idea, we cannot analyze 
it ; and as it is an ultimate principle in human nature, we cannot explain 
or account for it. 



300 THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT. 

into the attributes of the Deity, and into that manifestation of 
them which calls for the religious homage of the whole human 
family. The question now is, — Have we satisfactory assur- 
ance, even from the light of nature, that God does indeed govern 
the earth ? and if so, by what rule does he govern it ? The 
doctrine of uninterrupted Divine agency, which was considered 
at length, and, as I think, established, in the former Part, 
teaches us, indeed, that all events are of his disposal ; but the 
doctrine was then viewed chiefly in relation to physical occur- 
rences, or to what are called the laws of the outward world. Is 
the moral world equally under his guidance and dominion ? and 
does conscience, in its purity and supremacy, only mirror to us 
the light of his countenance ? Is man, also, in his intellectual 
and moral nature, subject to laws as inflexible as those which 
govern the planets in their courses ? and as the latter manifest 
to us the wisdom and power of the Lawgiver, so do the former 
evince to us his justice, benevolence, and holiness? 

The answer of these questions in the affirmative, upon satis- 
factory grounds, you perceive, will afford evidence a posteriori 
of the moral character of the Deity, and, as a necessary conse- 
quence, of the religious duties of man. It is customary with 
writers upon this subject, I am well aware, to proceed entirely 
upon abstract reasoning, and to deduce the moral attributes from 
the natural ones, the whole doctrine resting upon arguments 
a priori. Thus, the doctrine of the omniscience of the Divine 
Being is upheld, as " a necessary inference from that of a uni- 
versal Creator. He who made all creatures and things — that 
is to say, who gave them their being and properties — cannot 
but know the being and properties which himself has given, and 
the ways in which they will be developed and will operate." 
Again, the infinite benevolence and holiness of God are deduced 
immediately from a consideration of his omniscience and infinite 
power and wisdom. 

Now I am far from denying the validity of such reasoning as 
this, and there is unquestionably a certain class of minds so 
peculiarly constituted that it is more satisfactory to them than 
any other. But it seems to me to be chargeable with this great 



THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT. 301 

defect, — that unless it can be supported by the evidence of 
facts, that is, by observation and experience, it leaves the in- 
quirer in a worse condition than he was before he began the 
study of the subject. Of what use is it to demonstrate to him 
by abstract reasoning, that the Almighty must govern in holiness 
the world which he has made, when, from his knowledge of 
history, from the mode in which he has been accustomed to look 
upon natural occurrences and the conduct of mankind, and from 
his personal experience, he is compelled to doubt whether the 
world is governed at all? Perplexed by this contradiction 
between reason and experience, he will be tempted to reject the 
doctrine and the argument along with it, — not that he can 
detect any flaw in the latter, but because he is obliged to dis- 
trust the power of the human mind ever to arrive at any truth. 
Prove to him, that an omniscient God must necessarily be in- 
finitely-benevolent and holy, and at the same time allow him to 
believe, that the history of mankind is one long record of 
wretchedness and sin, and what conclusion can he draw, except 
that the doctrine of a superintending Providence is either an 
inexplicable mystery or a delusion, or that reasoning which 
seems to be demonstrative is, in truth, wholly treacherous and 
unsound? The adoption of the latter alternative only adds 
skepticism in philosophy to disbelief in religion. If we were 
concerned with the truths of theology only as we are with the 
principles of abstract science, then this mode of evolving them 
one from the other in logical succession, as it would add to the 
symmetry and elegance of the theory, and lead to no conse- 
quences that would be practically injurious, might well be 
adopted, if for no other reason, yet as a diversion of the intel- 
lect.* But as matters of immediate and momentous interest, 



* In the exact sciences, too much regard cannot be paid to method, to 
the systematic evolution of principles in their natural order, each step 
being the natural consequence of its immediate predecessor, and the 
natural preparation for the one which is to follow it. Geometry and 
Mechanics owe much of their beauty, as well as their intclligibleuess, to 
this rigid observance of method in the evolution of their principles. They 
are as perfect examples of synthesis as the composition of stones that 

26 



302 THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT. 

it behooves us to study them in such a manner as to leave clear 
and deeply rooted convictions in the soul. They relate not 
merely to faith, but to practice ; and experience is therefore our 
surest guide in the investigation, and the safest teacher in con- 
duct. By approaching the subject in this manner, we remove 
the difficulties alleged by the skeptic before laying the founda- 



constitutcs an arch. But in the moral sciences, it may be doubted whether 
the love of system has not been carried too far, whether the desire to round 
off one's speculations into a complete theory has not led, on the one hand, 
to a suppression or imperfect statement of some important truths, and on 
the other, to a needless repetition and an exaggerated estimate of some 
principles which are really of secondary importance. Both in Politics 
and Political Economy, the system which professes to be deduced in an 
exact method from a single principle, is very apt to be a false system. 
These sciences are based upon human nature, and therefore must be con- 
formed to the manifold diversities and inconsistencies of that nature. Mr. 
Mill derives the whole theory of Government from the single assumed 
fact, that every man pursues his interest when he knows it ; to which Sir 
James Mackintosh acutely objects, that " a nation, as much as an individual, 
and sometimes more, may not only mistake its interest, but, perceiving it 
clearly, may prefer the gratification of a strong passion to it. The whole 
fabric of Mill's political reasoning seems to be overthrown by this single 
observation ; and instead of attempting to explain the immense variety 
of political facts by the simple principle of a contest of interests, we are 
reduced to the necessity of once more referring them to that variety of 
passions, habits, opinions, and prejudices, which we discover only by ex- 
perience." 

In Political Economy, hardly can any one topic be adequately developed 
and explained, without taking for granted a general knowledge of all 
the other topics, or entering into a provisional explanation of them. 
Wealth, Exchange, Value, Money, Cost, Profits, Wages, — all are con- 
nected with each other like the threads of a continuous network inclosing 
a sphere. It matters little where we begin ; whatever part we first take up 
will be found to involve a consideration of nearly all the other parts of 
the system. In such cases, we best preserve the essentials of method, by 
sacrificing its outward forms. Logic must give way temporarily to rhet- 
oric ; that view of the subject which most readily presents itself to an in- 
quiring mind, ignorant as yet of the elements of the science, should be 
preferred to the more comprehensive and exact development of it, which 
can be understood and appreciated only by the proficient who has care- 
fully examined the whole ground. A picture is better than a map for 
some purposes. 



THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT. 303 

tions of our religious belief, and then proceed to erect the struc- 
ture with a firmer assurance, that " the gates of hell shall not 
prevail against it." 

Constraint distinguished from government. — I go back, 
therefore, to the question as I first propounded it : — Looking 
at the world only as the theatre of human experience, is there 
sufficient evidence that it is" constantly under the government of 
its Creator, who directs the conduct, and takes an interest in 
the welfare, of the beings whom he has made ? The inanimate 
universe and the inferior orders of living creatures, as we have 
seen, depend immediately, and in all their movements, upon the 
constant care and agency of the Supreme Being. The same 
power which brought them into existence, sustains and guides 
them, whether in motion or at rest. Every event, every change 
in their condition, from the falling of an atom up to the revolu- 
tions of a system of worlds, is attributable directly to the 
agency of God. But this agency here is immediate and exclu- 
sive ; it is the direct exercise of power, not cooperating with 
or modified by any power inherent in the bodies themselves, 
but negativing the existence of such secondary power ; it is con- 
straint, not government. But man is a free agent; in one 
sense, and to a certain extent, he governs himself. Endowed 
with freewill, and left to choose smong many motives of action, 
his obedience, if rendered at all, is voluntary, not mechanical. 
Is such obedience claimed of him ? Is man, also, under Divine 
government, — the will of his Creator being signified to him in 
language that he cannot mistake, and enforced, not indeed by the 
•i^on law of necessity, which is incompatible with his whole 
moral nature, but by such considerations as may influence the 
conduct of a free and rational being ? 

Butler's argument for the moral government of God. — To 
this question it is usual to answer, as Bishop Butler has done, 
that the pleasures and pains of our mortal existence are properly 
considered as rewards and punishments, the distribution of* 
which was intended to influence our conduct. They mark out 
the course in which it was designed that we should walk, and 
serve at once to indicate the will of the Ruler of the universe, 



304 THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT. 

and to supply strong motives for compliance with his command* 
" All which we enjoy, and a great part of what we suffer, is put 
in our own power. For pleasure and pain are the consequences 
of our actions, and we are endowed by the Author of our nature 

with capacities of foreseeing these consequences It is 

certain matter of universal experience, that the general method 
of Divine administration is, forewarning us, or giving us capac- 
ities to foresee, with more or less clearness, that if we act so 
and so, we shall have such enjoyments, and if so and so, such 
sufferings ; and giving us those enjoyments, and making us feel 
those sufferings, in consequence of our actions." 

It is hardly necessary to adduce examples to illustrate this 
mode of government, as every human being has daily experience 
of its operation. Imprudence, negligence, or feebleness in the 
management of our ordinary concerns, is sure to be followed by 
mischievous consequences, which form its appropriate punish- 
ment. If I transgress the known laws of physiology, I am sure 
to suffer for it by bodily weakness or disease ; and if the trans- 
gression becomes extreme, sickness ends in death. The health 
of the mind is equally cared for ; we are admonished, in very 
significant language, that mental cultivation, exertion, and re- 
pose are appointed to us, each in its season and proper degree, 
and the evils of neglect, delay, or excess, are the sharp penal- 
ties that enforce the law. As yet, I intentionally pass over all 
instances relating to the breach of moral laws ; these will be 
considered hereafter, in a different connection. 

It is no objection to this view of the matter to say, that these 
assumed penalties are but the inevitable results of the natural 
constitution of things, the necessary effects of known physical 
causes. The constitution of things is the appointment of the 
Creator, and what is called 'physical causation is the constant 
ivorking of Divine poiver. "When we speak of the laws of 
nature as invariable, and of the consequences of a failure to 
comply with them as inevitable, we only .mark our sense of the 
constancy and stability of his administration.* The govern- 

" ' But all this is to be ascribed to the general course of nature.' True. 
This is the very thing which I am observing. It is to be ascribed to the 



m 

THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT. 305 

ment under which we live never fluctuates, wavers, or sleeps ; 
its care extends to the regulation even of our minutest concerns, 
and the offence against it which is committed in secret bears its 
penalty as surely as that which was flagrant and avowed in the 
face of day. 

Obedience required irrespective of consequerices. — But I go 
much further. From the analysis of our moral nature, which 
has just occupied our attention, it appears that obedience to law 
is demanded of us for its own sake, irrespective of the conse- 
quences that will follow transgression. Prior to all experience, 
in the mind of every human being, arises spontaneously the 
idea or sense of obligation, of duty as such, of submission to 
authority which is recognized as supreme, and obeyed without 
compulsion or reference to the consequences of disobedience 
upon our personal welfare. This idea is the one that lies at 
the root of all government, and without which, in fact, no gov- 
ernment is possible, except that of despotism supported by irre- 
sistible power. Authority can have no other title but that of 
might, or of right. In the former case, obedience, being compul- 
sory, is, properly speaking, no obedience at all. It is but a me- 
chanical yielding to superior force. An offender who is actu- 



general course of nature : i. e. not surely to the words or ideas, course of 
nature ; but to him who appointed it, and put things into it ; or to a course 
of operation, from its uniformity or constancy, called natural ; and which 
necessarily implies an operating agent. For when men find themselves 
necessitated to confess an Author of Nature, or that God is the natural gov- 
ernor of the world, they must not deny this again, because his government 
is uniform ; they must not deny that he does things at all, because he does 
them constantly ; because the effects of his acting are permanent, whether 
his acting be so or not ; though there is no reason to think it is not. In 
short, every man, in every thing he does, naturally acts upon the fore- 
thought and apprehension of avoiding evil or obtaining good : and if the 
natural course of things be the appointment of God, and our natural facul- 
ties of knowledge and experience are given us by him, then the good and 
bad consequences which follow our actions, are his appointment, and our 
foresight of those consequences is a warning given us by him, how we are 
to act." — Butler's Analogy, Part I. Chap 2. 
26* 



306 THE NATURE OP MORAL GOVERNMENT. 

ally in the grasp of the officers of the law, and is dragged away 
by them to punishment, may be said to obey their motions ; but 
in no other sense than as a ship is said to obey the impulse of 
the winds. There is no will, no proper volition, in the case ; 
and therefore no proper submission or obedience. Even if vio- 
lence is not actually applied, but only threatened, there being a 
moral certainty that the threat will be executed, the individual 
may be said to yield, but he does not properly obey, or recog- 
nize the authority which thus constrains him against his will. 
He is still, either in expectation or reality, moved by brute 
force, — not governed. 

A mere system of rewards and punishments is not government. 
— Perhaps it will not be deemed refining too far, if I add, that 
a mere system for influencing the conduct of others through re- 
wards and penalties, without reference to an assumed legitimate 
authority, or right to command, is not government, but persua- 
sion. Thus, I may determine the conduct of my neighbor by 
making sufficiently liberal appeals to his interest ; I may induce 
him to give up to me his house and land, or even to sell his 
services. Still, he is not governed ; there being no assumption of 
authority, no claim of right, on either side. He only governs 
whose commands are obeyed from a sense of moral obligation ; 
and the fruits of disobedience are properly considered as pun- 
ishment, only after it is admitted that the disobedience is a moral 
wrong. Hence, no one is justified in violating the law simply 
because he is willing to suffer the penalty attached to that in- 
fraction, nor does the suffering expiate the guilt which he has 
incurred. Penalties are means of enforcing obedience which 
are but one degree less violent than the direct application of 
superior strength. 

I do not say that a system of rewards and punishments is so 
inconsistent with the nature of moral government that the two 
cannot exist together, or that the one cannot be a supplement 
of the other, operating to make it more universal and effective. 
On the contrary, I shall attempt to show hereafter, that such a 
system, very complete and admirable in its arrangements, is an 



THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT. 007 

actual adjunct of the Divine government, which, without it, 
would be quite too limited in its effects upon human conduct. 
But my present point is, that the government itself, or the pro- 
nunciation of a law and the recognition of its authority and 
binding power, is perfectly distinct from the means and appli- 
ances by which it is made effective, and men are brought under its 
control; the promulgation of a law is one thing, and the appa- 
ratus for its enforcement is another. We can conceive of a 
community so virtuous, that rewards and penalties should not 
be needed or known among them, but obedience should be 
spontaneous and universal ; their state, then, would not be the 
absence of government, but its perfection. With less compli- 
ant dispositions, some means of enforcing the law are needed, 
till obedience becomes a habit, and the yoke, as in the former 
case, is easily borne. Thus, in the scheme of Divine Provi- 
dence, rewards and punishments are our schoolmasters ; by them 
we are educated into obedience, and become willing subjects of 
the reign of God upon the earth. 

" Lord, with what care hast thou begirt us round ! 

Parents first season us ; then schoolmasters 
Deliver us to laws ; they send us bound 

To rules of reason, holy messengers, 
Pulpits and Sundays, sorrow dogging sin, 

Afflictions sorted, anguish of all sizes, 
Pine nets and stratagems to catch us in, 

Bibles laid open, millions of surprises, 
Blessings beforehand, ties of gratefulness, 

The sound of glory ringing in our ears ; 
Without our shame, within our consciences ; 

Angels and grace, eternal hopes and fears. 
Yet all these forces, and their whole array, 
One cunning bosom-sin blows quite away." 

How obedience, at first selfishly rendered, becomes pure. — 
That beautiful law of our mental constitution, which accounts 
for the formation of what are called " secondary desires," affords 
a means for the purification of the motive, and for a passage 
from the selfish to the disinterested stage of moral progress. 



308 THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT. 

The process is a simple one, being merely a transference of the 
affections from the end to the means. By the association of ideas, 
that which was at first loved or practised only as an instrument^ 
becomes the leading idea and the chief object of pursuit. Thus, 
in the downward course, money, at first desired only as a means 
of gratifying the appetites, or of answering some higher ends, 
becomes itself "an appetite and a passion," and the vicious 
habit of avarice is formed. And so, in our upward progress, 
the honesty which was first practised only because it was the 
best policy, the worship of God which was first paid only as 
the price of heaven, become at last the unbought and unselfish 
homage of the soul to uprightness, holiness, and truth. Virtue 
deserves its name only when, by long practice, it has become a 
fixed habit ; for then only is it freed from the stain of selfish- 
ness. The terrors of the law are proclaimed to the sinner only 
that he may be able to overcome the first shock of the transi- 
tion from sin to holiness f its promises are reserved for those 
only who, by patient continuance in well-doing, have become 
alike indifferent to the debasing fear and the debasing hope. 

Conscience proves the moral government of God. — But to re- 
turn to the leading branch of our subject ; — I do not see that 
there is any possibility of regarding the most prominent fact in 
the moral constitution of man in any other light, than as a 
direct proof of the government which the Deity exercises over 
him, and of the constant submission and obedience which are 
required of him, even at the expense, if necessary, of his tem- 
poral interests. His consciousness informs him, that the author- 
ity thus exercised is absolute, or supreme ; all considerations of 
interest, all earthly authority, must give way to it. At the 
same time, this subject of the Divine government remains a free 
agent ; he may, he often does, act in opposition to the law within 
the heart, and braves the consequences of the violation. What 
those consequences are, or how the moral law is upheld by cor- 
responding arrangements in the physical universe, or the gen- 
eral constitution of things, I do not now consider ; nor is it nec- 
essary for our present purpose to ask what the commands are 



THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT. 309 

which are promulgated under this awful authority. It is 
enough at present to show, that a claim to supreme authority, for 
commands of whatever nature, is actually set up and universally 
recognized ; for this is sufficient proof that the affairs of the 
moral universe are under the constant direction and government 
of its Creator. The Epicurean theory, that God exists, but 
does not govern, is not a whit less improbable and absurd than 
the hypothesis of the atheist. 

Objection refuted. — To this argument it may be objected, 
that, according to the view already taken of the theory of ethics, 
the obligation of the moral law does not in anywise depend upon 
the will of the Deity, but exists anterior to all command, and 
forms, in truth, the only ground upon which we can impute 
holiness to him, or justice to his dealings with men. Certainly, 
this law does not appear to us as arbitrary, or dependent upon 
mere will ; if it did, we could not recognize its absolute and in- 
herent obligation. But it may properly be regarded as his law 
through whose agency alone it is made known to us ; he who pro- 
mulgates and sanctions a law, may be regarded as the author of 
it by those whom he addresses. He has so constituted our 
minds, that we cannot escape a knowledge of the law, and fre- 
quent monitions of its paramount claims to obedience. The 
endowment of conscience is as plain an indication of his will in 
this respect, as the curious structure of the eye is of his inten- 
tion that we should see. Compliance with the law of con- 
science, then, is obedience to God. 

Argument from design founded on our intellectual and moral 
nature. — The extraordinary number, obviousness, and beauty 
of those illustrations of the argument from design, which are 
drawn from the physical universe, arrest and detain the atten- 
tion with so strong a grasp, that it is difficult to give due prom- 
inence and effect to the other branch of the same argument, 
which rests upon the intellectual and moral nature of man. If 
we were not accustomed to dwell so exclusively upon the for- 
mer, attracted by the copious and interesting details which it 
brings to our notice, I think every one would acknowledge, that 



310 THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT. 

the latter was really even more direct, logical, and convincing. 
The marks of contrivance in the arrangements of matter which 
fill earth, sea, and skies, the effects that are constantly repro- 
duced, all working together harmoniously, often by long and 
complex processes, for the production of specific and useful 
results, compel us to believe, not only that God exists, but that 
he is constantly present in his material creation, sustaining, vivi- 
fying, acting with ceaseless energy ; the objects themselves, and 
all the changes and movements which take place in them, afford- 
ing equally striking proofs of his immediate agency and uni- 
versal Providence. But minds which are compelled to admit 
this conclusion without hesitancy, are so much perplexed by the 
history of man upon the earth, by the long and gloomy record 
of human folly, ignorance, passion, wilfulness, suffering, and sin, 
that they are half disposed to make our race the only excep- 
tions to the universality of Divine care and forethought, and 
to believe that man alone is left to himself in this world, free 
to work out his own inventions, and to endure their conse- 
quences. A belief in the absolute freedom of the human will 
seems, at first sight, almost necessarily to lead to this doctrine. 
Hoiv can man, they ask, be both free and governed, self-directed 
and subject to another's will and power, — at the some moment 
a sovereign, and an automaton or a slave? And the result, 
the effects that are actually produced, appear to corroborate this 
opinion, to which we have been led by the antecedent view of 
the case. If man be governed at all by Supreme Power, his 
history seems to prove that he is very ill-governed. To recur 
to a former illustration, the economy of a hive of bees puts to 
shame the most orderly society that the wit of man ever framed 
and maintained. No wonder that the doctrine of the original 
and total depravity of the human race has obtained so ready an 
acceptance with most theologians, even on grounds apart from 
Scripture. The history of the civilized portion of the race, to 
say nothing of the earlier ages of the world, or of the great 
majority of its present inhabitants still sunk in barbarism and 
all the evils of savage life, seem to sustain and also to demon- 
strate it. 



THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT. 311 

Beauty of the contrivance by which this problem is solved. — 
I admit the difficulty to its full extent, and have endeavored to 
make the statement of it as full and forcible as possible, so as 
to give no room for the imputation of evading the real knot and 
perplexity in the argument. But it is on account of the great- 
ness of the difficulty, — because we see that human reason alone, 
unaided by conscience, could not reconcile the contradiction 
which is here presented to it, — that we are so much struck by 
the display of infinite wisdom which has solved the problem so 
completely, that not a shadow remains from it upon the faith of 
the believer. To reconcile absolute government with perfect 
freewill on the part of the governed,, and to account for the 
existence of moral and physical evil without imputing either 
carelessness or malevolence to the ruler, is the problem to be 
solved. The instinct of brutes, which is a power acting above 
their individual nature and the sphere of their consciousness, 
shows us how man might be guided to the highest and noblest 
ends, so that all the lower purposes of his being should be 
answered, and his happiness provided for in full measure, with- 
out any moral endowment whatever, and of course, without any 
responsibility on his part, or any possibility of sin. But merit 
and demerit would then be words without meaning, as compul- 
sory virtue is a contradiction in terms. Man, then, must be 
self-^guided, but must still act under the consciousness of a law 
which he acknowledges to be supreme, and to which he owes 
implicit obedience. The point is, that he should be able to 
recognize the supremacy of this law, and still be free to obey it 
or not. Admitting his freedom, and the full force of the instinc- 
tive passions and appetites by which he is swayed or impelled, 
how can he remain a subject of the Divine government? 

Solution of the problem. — Suppose, then, that a voice^from 
heaven should proclaim to him distinctly, at every hour and 
minute of the day, the will of an infinitely superior being as to 
the regulation of his conduct, — the voice being accompanied by 
such manifest and imposing tokens of the majesty and omnipo- 
tence of the source whence it came, that even the natural senti- 
ment of awe, not supported by any direct reference to conse- 



dl2 THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT. 

quences, would incline him to submit implicitly to the command. 
Suppose that the purport of the order thus supernaturally com- 
municated to him was to restrict his natural impulses and de- 
sires, and to set before him a rule of conduct more perfect even 
than a chastised and rational regard for his own happiness, so 
that a self-guided will should submit to the sacrifice of self. 
Still it might be said, that his awe-struck faculties were terrified 
into submission, so that in truth, compliance was no longer free. 
And so, if man were endowed only with appetite and intellect 
must every other attempt fail to get rid of the difficulty in ques- 
tion, and to remove what seems, in the eye of reason alone, the 
absolute inconsistency between the ideas of subjection and free- 
dom. 

Now change the supposition a little, but enough to conform it 
to the real state of the case. Imagine, that, instead of a voice 
from heaven thus constantly proclaiming to us the will of the 
Supreme Being, enforced by all the outward terrors of the law 
given from Sinai, the injunction should constantly be repeated 
within the mind itself, in a manner far more impressive than if 
it were accompanied by the thunder and the earthquake from 
without. Imagine that the order thus made known is attended 
by a conception — that of duty — which" the intellect alone 
could never frame, and which alone can reconcile the idea of 
law with that of liberty, of absolute obligation with perfect free- 
dom. Yet this imagining is but a plain statement of the func- 
tions of conscience, — of the miracle, so to speak, which is con- 
stantly wrought within us, in order that we may perceive that 
our moral freedom is compatible with our subjection to the Di- 
vine government. Remember how numerous are the occasions 
on which this idea rises, and the variety of applications of which 
it is susceptible. It colors nearly every action of our lives, and 
modifies every judgment that we can form of the conduct of our 
fellow-beings. By introducing the idea of a law of paramount 
obligation, and, at the same time, removing all show of compul- 
sion or even of terror, and speaking without reference either to 
rewards or punishments, it first makes the conception of virtue 
possible. Far from negativing the freedom of the will, it pre- 



THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT. 313 

supposes freedom, — it 4s not compatible with any condition but 
that of freedom, — and therefore we cannot even conceive of its 
application to brutes. 

Moral good implies tlie possibility of moral evil. — All virtue 
is conformity to the rule thus made known to us, and all vice is 
departure from it. It is demonstrable, then, that moral good 
flows from the same fountain as moral evil, and that the one 
cannot exist without the possibility of the other. Why is it that 
we are so painfully affected, on reviewing the history of man- 
kind, or examining into their present condition ? It is because 
the requisitions of conscience are so high and pure, and in judg- 
ing of the conduct of others, at least, it is so natural to apply 
them, that we almost involuntarily dwell upon the examples of 
:ransgression, upon the amount of sin and consequent woe which 
is in the world, and which operates to divert our attention from 
:he moral good of which these evils are the necessary price, and 
by which they are accompanied and redeemed. It is only to 
this one-sided view that the prospect seems dark, and God's 
scheme of government of the human family appears one of 
loubtful wisdom or benevolence. Why not dwell rather upon 
;he virtues that are practised, the amount of good that is ae- 
rially done, and then admire the perfection of the scheme which 
renders such excellence attainable by man ? It is true that 
moral excellence is not usually so prominent, or so likely to arrest 
:he attention of the observer, as moved delinquency ; for great 
:rimes usually announce themselves with startling effect, and 
are attended by a long train of disastrous consequences, which 
2xtend and deepen the impression ; while the virtues love the 
shade, and the good which flows from the observance of them is 
a noiseless stream. But if we judge men by their intentions 
rather than their outward conduct, — and this is obviously the 
only correct judgment, — I am inclined to believe that the law 
Df conscience is far more frequently obeyed than violated. The 
worst man that ever lived is still conscious at times of noble and 
virtuous impulses, and in his own view of the matter, at any 
rate, if not in that of his neighbors, his conduct often conforms 
to them. A conscious transgression of the most obvious prin- 

27 * 



314 THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT. 

ciples of rectitude is too unnatural and too painful an act to be 
wantonly or frequently repeated. Certainly, a whole life of 
crime, of gratuitous violence and wrong, relieved by no com- 
punctions, and unvaried by any act of mercy, truthfulness, or 
justice, is so monstrous a conception, that no one ever expects 
to see it realized. 

Why evil appears prominent in history. — " How small," says 
Stewart, "is the number of individuals who draw the atten- 
tion of the world by their crimes, when compared with the mill- 
ions who pass their days in inoffensive obscurity ! Of this it is 
scarcely necessary to produce any other proof, than the fact 
which is commonly urged on the other side of the argument, — 
the catalogue of crimes and calamities which sully the history 
of past ages. For whence is the interest we take in historical 
reading, but from the singularity of the events it records, and 
from the contrast which its glaring colors present to the uni- 
formity and repose of private life ? Even in those unhappy 
periods which have furnished the most ample materials to the 
historian, the storm has spent its rage in general on a com- 
paratively small number of men, placed in the more conspicuous 
stations of society by their birth, by their talents, by their am- 
bition, or by an heroical sense of duty ; while the unobserved 
multitude saw it pass over their head, or only heard its noise at 
a distance. Nor must we pronounce all those to have been un- 
happy who are commonly styled the unfortunate. The mind 
suits itself to the part it is destined to act, and, when great 
and worthy objects are before it, exults in those moments of 
hazard and alarm, which, even while they threaten life and 
freedom, leave us in the possession of every thing that con- 
stitutes the glory and the perfection of our nature." 

It is the sensitiveness of our moral constitution, alive to the 
slightest appearance of wrong, and painfully affected by any 
manifestation of it on a large scale, which leads us, on a specu- 
lative view of the subject, to exaggerate the amount of moral 
evil in the world. Far from being a defect, this sensitiveness 
should be accounted an excellence in our moral being, as it 
shows how strong is our appreciation of the authority of con- 



THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT. 315 

science, how wide a field in our view is covered by its com- 
mands, and how quick is our perception of any case in which 
these commands are violated. Thus, as Butler finely remarks, 
the judgments which men form of each other tend to carry out 
the purposes of the Almighty, by constituting a part of the pun- 
ishment which he has appointed for every transgression. They 
enter into the scheme of Divine government, which, even as 
manifested in the history of our race, is far more direct, com- 
prehensive, and searching than most persons imagine. A little 
reflection will convince them, that they have greatly underrated 
the number and minuteness of the occasions in which the moral 
faculty is called into exercise, and really determines the conduct 
even of the worst of men. 

The incessant and universal activity of conscience. — The 
institution of property, for instance, is founded entirely on our 
sense of justice, which is correctly defined to be " the constant 
intention to give to every man that which is rightfully his own." 
He who voluntarily deprives himself of any thing which seems 
to him at all valuable or desirable, for the mere purpose of 
restoring it to another who has a better claim to it, or who even 
abstains from the attempt to seize and appropriate it when it is 
in the possession of its rightful owner, is so far actuated by 
the feeling of justice, or is obedient to that injunction of the 
Almighty which is manifested through the conscience. Now, no 
nation has ever been discovered on the earth, so low and brutal 
in their inclinations and habits, so destitute of any idea of 
right, that the institution of property, to a greater or less extent, 
does not exist among them. The right of the savage to the 
tools and weapons which his own hand has fashioned, and to 
the game which he has caught, is universally respected by his 
fellows ; or if this original title is ever violated, it is from some 
rude notion of government, or authority in the head of the 
tribe, or punishment inflicted for some offence, at the bottom of 
which notion, also, lies the feeling of right, as distinct as in the 
case of original ownership. That the property continues in the 
possession of the owner, is owing only to a constant exercise of 
self-denial on the part of those who have it not and still desire 



316 THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT. 

it ; thus showing that the sense of rectitude is, to this extent at 
least, a permanent and effective rule of conduct. The familiar 
proverb, that there is honesty even among thieves, at any rate in 
their treatment of their fellows, proves .that this remark holds 
true even of those who are commonly supposed to live in open 
defiance of every law, both human and Divine. Now a single 
instance of robbery on a great scale, by the general indignation 
that it creates, occupies a larger space in the minds and mem- 
ories of men, than all this continuous observance of the rule. 

If any doubt remains as to the entire dependence of this 
institution on our primitive and habitual regard for law, it will 
be removed by a glance at the brute creation. The lower ani- 
mals have not even an instinct which leads to restitution ; the 
power of the strongest is, with them, the only law. The hungry 
mastiff wrests the bone from his feebler companion, and blind 
appetite or fear alone guides the more ferocious beasts in the 
appropriation of their food. The mother-bird, indeed, stints its 
own appetite for the benefit of its young ; but this is only from 
the strong impulse of natural affection, which is as blind and 
unreasoning in the brute as in the human heart. The constant 
respect for property, then, proves the universality and ceaseless 
operation of the moral nature of man. 

Distinction between absolute and relative right. — It is obvious 
that this argument for the constancy and immediateness of the 
moral government of God applies with the greater force, in 
proportion to the culture which our moral perceptions have 
received. I have already hinted, that bad men are not so bad 
as they seem ; and one reason why they are not, is, that they 
look at their own conduct from a different point of view from 
that which is taken by the bystanders. A good deal of the 
disorder and injustice which we see, does not demonstrate any 
ill intention on the part of its authors ; nay, it often proceeds 
from an uncultivated or misdirected sense of duty, and is so far 
meritorious. We must distinguish carefully between absolute 
and relative right. " An action is said to be absolutely right," 
says Dugald Stewart, " when it is in every respect suitable to 
the circumstances in which the agent is placed ; or, in other 



THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT. 317 

words, when it is such as, with perfectly good intentions, un- 
der the guidance of an enlightened and well-informed under- 
standing, he would have performed. An action is said to be 
relatively right, when the intentions of the agent are sincerely 
good, whether his conduct be suitable to his circumstances or 
not. According to these definitions, it is evident, that an action 
may be right in one sense, and wrong in another ; and it is no 
less evident, that it is the relative rectitude alone of an action, 
which determines the moral desert of the agent in the sight of 
God and of his own conscience." 

Conscience gives us the conception of duty, or feeling of ob- 
ligation, but does not apply this feeling to outward conduct. Its 
sphere of action is wholly internal, motives and intentions being 
its only subjects ; what course of conduct will best carry out 
these intentions, is a question, not for the moral faculty, but for 
the intellect, to answer ; and the uninformed or perverted un- 
derstanding may answer it very ill. Thus, conscience approves 
and enjoins justice, benevolence, veracity, which is a form of 
justice, and patriotism, which is a department of benevolence ; 
it even pronounces upon the relative claims of these virtues to 
observance, though not so distinctly, affirming that justice is of 
higher obligation than benevolence. But what conduct, what 
outward acts, will be truly just, or truly benevolent, or whether a 
patriotic intention will justify cunning words or harsh deeds, are 
doubts of which it furnishes no solution. Reason must here be 
our guide. The train of consequences, some of them very re- 
mote, which every action carries with it, must be foreseen and 
estimated, — a work for the understanding, — before these ques- 
tions can be answered. Our moral sense, which is infallible in 
its sphere, only declares that an action is just to him who intends 
it for justice ; and to him who thinks a certain deed is benevo- 
lent, to him it shall be accounted for benevolence. Apply these 
principles to history, and to our common observation of man- 
kind, and much of what we are accustomed to consider as evi- 
dence of the depravity and wickedness of the human race dis- 
appears altogether ; nay, if fully considered, it affords proof of 

27* 



318 THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT. 

the existence of high virtues among men, for the action, in the 
case considered, becomes not only innocent, but meritorious. 

This distinction illustrated. — Take war, for instance. To 
one who reads history in a proper spirit, there is probably 
nothing so painful as the almost continuous record which it af- 
fords of the bloodshed, misery, and corruption caused by this 
brutal and detestable practice. "War is, indeed, " the garment 
of vengeance with which the Deity arrays himself, when he 
comes forth to punish the inhabitants . of the earth." Looking 
at it from a distance, in the light of a calm philosophy, no less 
than of a pure morality, we are tempted to believe that it must 
be waged by demons rather than by men, and that its mo- 
tives are as bad as its consequences are afflicting. The lan- 
guage of Robert Hall seems hardly exaggerated, when he says, 
that " the plague of a widely extended war possesses, in fact, a 
sort of omnipresence, by which it makes itself everywhere felt ; 
for while it gives up myriads to slaughter in one part of the 
globe, it is busily employed in scattering over countries exempt 
from its immediate desolations the seeds of famine, pestilence, 

and death While the philanthropist is devising means 

to mitigate the evils and augment the happiness of the world, a 
fellow-worker together with God, in exploring and giving effect 
to the benevolent tendencies of nature, the warrior is revolving, 
in the gloomy recesses of his capacious mind, plans of future 
devastation and ruin. Prisons crowded with captives, cities 
emptied of their inhabitants, fields desolate and waste, are among 
his proudest trophies. The fabric of his fame is cemented with 
tears and blood ; and if his name is wafted to the ends of the 
earth, it is in the shrill cry of suffering humanity, in the curses 
and imprecations of those whom his sword has reduced to de- 
spair." • 

The picture is indeed a terrible one, though but few will think 
it is overdrawn. Yet the truth, I suppose, unquestionably is, 
that almost every person concerned in war, whether an originator 
of the strife or an actor in it, is either actuated, or, what amounts 
to the same thing in the light in which we are now viewing the 
matter, believes himself to be actuated, by the highest and holiest 



THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT. 319 

motives. The statesman thinks that the welfare and honor of 
his country are at stake, and that it is his stern duty to stifle his 
feelings of compassion for the multitude, and to punish aggres- 
sion, arrogance, and injustice, even at the expense of a long and 
bloody conflict. The military chieftain feels that the safety and 
honor of his troops depend upon his courage and conduct, and 
that he acts under an awful responsibility to the rightful gov- 
ernment of his country, which has confided this awful mission to 
his hands ; it may be, that he goes to a hopeless contest, and 
then the feelings which support the martyr at the stake are 
hardly superior to his. Hence the strange contradiction, as it 
seems, of which history affords more than one instance, that a 
commander, on the morning after he had achieved a great vic- 
tory, should be found weeping like a child over the spectacle 
that the field afforded of suffering and death which his own 
hand had caused. Lord Collino-wood was one of the most hieli- 
minded, pure, affectionate, and strictly moral men of whom the 
British peerage can boast ; yet this man commanded the ship 
which fired the first English gun in the sanguinary naval con- 
flict of Trafalgar. The common soldier is ignorant and brutal, 
most likely ; but he, too, in the moment of action, has learned 
to suppress all other feelings at the mandate of duty, — the 
duty on which every thing then depends, that of implicit sub- 
mission to his superiors. It would be a strange paradox to 
say, that a camp is a nursery of lofty and stern virtues ; yet it 
certainly does foster a chivalrous exaltation of feeling, which 
reason, indeed, condemns, as an impure mixture of false senti- 
ment with an austere regard for duty, but which has so much 
of the moral element in it, that it cannot be harshly reprobated. 
I am not palliating the evils of war ; God forbid that I should 
say one word, to make any human being look upon the practice 
of it with less horror and detestation than he now feels ! I am 
only suggesting some reasons why it should not make us think so 
badly of our fellow beings, as to doubt whether they are under 
the moral government of God. If the distinctions here sug- 
gested do not tend at all to abate the severity of our condemna- 
tion of immoral practices, but only to render our feelings more 



320 THE NATURE OF MORAL GOVERNMENT. 

charitable and just towards those who are engaged in them, 
they may well be kept in mind even by the professed philan- 
thropists. The spirit of our religion certainly requires us to 
hate sin, but holds up the sinner to us as an object of compas- 
sion, kindness, and love. 

Conclusions respecting the moral government of God. — I have 
not intended in this chapter even to approach the great problem 
of the origin of evil ; that remains for subsequent consideration. 
I have only wished to show, that, in the moral constitution of 
man, there is the plainest proof, not only that we live under the 
immediate government of God, but that this government is 
effectual, the results produced being commensurate with the 
means employed. Not only is the will of God made known to 
us, at every moment of our lives, as the absolute rule of our 
conduct, the supreme law ; but the announcement of this law is 
made compatible with human freedom, and the law itself is 
practically recognized and observed, to a greater or less extent, 
by every human being. Human government, the direction and 
control of organized societies of men, rest upon this Divine gov- 
ernment, and would not be practicable without it. Property, as 
we have seen, is supported in the same manner. The law of 
God, promulgated through the conscience, and acknowledged 
both by the savage and by civilized man as supreme, exerts an 
influence that no man can measure over the life of every indi- 
vidual ; it forms the basis of those institutions which are essen- 
tial to the very existence of society ; it sways the councils of 
nations ; it governs the course of human affairs. 

And the means by which these great ends are accomplished 
— especially the manner in which we are perpetually reminded 
of the Divine command, as if by a voice from heaven, and the 
mode of reconciling liberty with law — are as beautiful instances 
of contrivance, they furnish quite as striking indications of 
Divine wisdom and goodness, as any which the material uni- 
verse affords. 



THE CONTENTS OF THE MORAL LAW. 321 



CHAPTER V. 

THE CONTEXTS OF THE MORAL LAW A REVELATION OF THE 
CHARACTER OF THE DEITY! THE ENFORCEMENT OF THE 
MORAL LAW. 

Summary of the last chapter. — I attempted to prove, in the 
last chapter, that the moral constitution of man affords direct 
and irrefragable evidence, that he is under the constant and im- 
mediate government of God. That the pleasures and pains 
which we experience in this life, and which proceed from, regu- 
lar and determinable causes, and therefore may be foreseen by 
us, may properly be regarded as rewards and punishments, indi- 
cating to us the will of the Deity that we should perform cer- 
tain actions and abstain from others, is another argument tend- 
ing to the same conclusion; but it does not seem to me so 
complete and satisfactory as the former one. Conscience an- 
nounces to us a law of absolute authority for the guidance of 
our hearts and lives ; its monitions are frequent, if not inces- 
sant, and the obligation which it imposes is recognized, whether 
we will or no, to be supreme. At the same time, it does not 
compel or force obedience, so that the liberty of the will is not 
infringed, but government is made compatible with freedom. 
This idea of pure and absolute obligation, or the sense of duty 
as such, as distinguished from compulsion On the one hand, and 
from a perfectly unregulated and ungoverned will on the other, 
is one which the intellect alone could never frame, and it does 
away with the apparent contradiction between liberty and law. 
Here, I observed, is contrivance, the indication of purpose, in 
the moral nature of man, just as visible as in the curious phys- 
ical apparatus by which we see, and just as clearly indicative 
of the intention of the Creator. The law thus revealed to us is 
His law who reveals it. If the fashioning of our bodies — 



322 THE CONTENTS OF THE MORAL LAW. 

these wonderful but perishable tenements of clay that we inhabit 
for a season — shows the wisdom and the purposes of Him who 
made them, how much more does the framework of our intel- 
lectual and moral being testify to the same effect! This is 
equally His contrivance, His work. It is not more evident that 
the ear was made to hear with, or the organs of voice to speak, 
or the lungs to breathe, than that the law proclaimed by conscience 
should be obeyed as His will ; otherwise, the moral faculty is 
constituted in vain, and exists for no conceivable purpose. 

This scheme of government, I remarked, is both comprehen- 
sive and minute ; it assumes to regulate every purpose of the 
heart, and to mould the whole life and character. And it is 
effectual ; the purpose which is indicated by this endowment of 
the mind with the power of distinguishing right from wrong, is 
carried out and realized to the fullest extent that is consistent 
with individual liberty. The conduct even of the vicious and 
the profligate, of the savage as well as the civilized man, is 
daily and hourly influenced by the law written on the heart. 
Society itself could not exist without it, as its most important 
institutions, government and property, recognize it, and are, in 
fact, supported by it. Through the sensitiveness of our moral 
nature, I endeavored to show, we are prone to exaggerate the 
moral disorder and depravity which are in the world and are 
revealed in history. If we judge men by their intentions, in- 
stead of their outward conduct, — and it is the former alone 
which the plan of Divine government assumes directly to regu- 
late, — much of their seeming lawlessness and wickedness dis- 
appears. Even war, that great scourge of the human family, 
is carried on, by most of those who are engaged in it, with a 
high moral purpose, — misdirected, it is true, but pure. I am 
well aware that this explanation leaves the ignorance of men, 
and the blinding power of their passions, as evils still to be 
accounted for ; these remain for subsequent discussion. At 
present, I am only concerned to show, that there is a Divine 
government, — not that it is a perfect government. 

The contents of the moral laic. — So we have not considered 
as yet, except incidentally, the purport or contents of the law 



THE CONTENTS OF THE MORAL LAW. 323 

which is revealed in the conscience ; the mere existence of such 
a law, and its claim of absolute supremacy, with the fact that it 
is recognized and acted upon, being the only points upon which 
stress has been laid. We have now to consider what the law 
enjoins. The very brief answer may be given, that it requires 
of us a pure heart and a virtuous life ; all that is comprehended 
under these phrases being entitled to the name of purity or 
virtue, only because it is required by conscience. Disinterest- 
edness is included ; for the most obvious characteristic of the 
voice of conscience is, that it is to be obeyed at all hazards. 
The obligation is perfect ; no matter by what sacrifice, I must 
render to another that which is his own, and my word must be 
kept. And as no fear or hope with regard to the consequences 
of the act upon my own welfare should tempt me to wrong-do- 
ing, so they ought not to be my reasons for following the right. 
Virtue must be cultivated for its own sake ; otherwise, it is not 
virtue, but selfishness. It is hardly necessary to say, that the 
law is so watchful and exacting, that it descends to the secrets 
of the heart, and declares what the purpose shall be, before that 
purpose is realized in the act ; this is the primary function of 
the conscience. The immediate object of the law, as already 
observed, is not conduct, but the intention which regulates the 
conduct. And all these points in the law are rendered so plain 
and familiar, even to the uninstructed, that in enlarging upon 
them, I must appear to you to be dwelling upon mere truisms. 
It is only when we come to reflect upon the marvellous consti- 
tution of our bodies and minds, considered as the work of the 
Almighty, and as indicating his will, that these worn truths re- 
assume freshness and interest. At other times, we take them 
for granted, and intend to act upon them. 

Why virtue is enjoined. — The question may now be asked, 
Why is it that we are enjoined to cultivate such dispositions of 
mind, or to act upon such intentions, in preference to all others ? 
In one sense, the answer has been already given ; it is because 
we have an intuitive knowledge, that virtue is of paramount ob- 
ligation, or absolutely binding for its own sake, so that to inquire, 
why it is obligatory, is just as much an impertinence as it would 



324 THE CONTENTS OF THE MORAL LAW. 

be to ask, why two and two make four. The axioms of morals 
stand on the same basis with the axioms of mathematics ; they 
cannot be. proved because they need no proof; they are self- 
evident. But as we are here considering the subject in refer- 
ence to the Divine government and the character of God, I put 
the question in a little different form : — Why has the Deity so 
constituted our minds that vje must perceive the supreme obliga- 
tion of virtue ? If it was not His will alone which established 
the moral law, it was certainly His will which gave us the 
power or faculty of perceiving that law and its absolute obliga- 
tion, and thereby of distinguishing right from wrong. He 
might have constituted us like the lower animals, who have no 
knowledge of it whatever. Why did he impart that knowl- 
edge to us ? or, in other words, why has he given to man a con- 
science ? 

Conscience not needed for the preservation of life. — Certainly, 
not for the same reason for which we are endowed with appe- 
tites ; these were intended to stimulate us to the exertions that 
are requisite before the wants of the body can be supplied. 
Without hunger, we should forget or neglect to eat, just as we 
now omit many precautions and exercises which are really im- 
portant for the preservation, of health, though not, like food, 
absolutely essential to life. But conscience is not essential for 
the preservation of animal life ; like the brutes, we might get 
along without it ; that is, we might preserve a merely animal 
existence. So one use of intellect — a lower use, but yet a 
sufficient reason for implanting the faculty in man — is to direct 
those exertions to which we are stimulated by the appetites 
and desires, or to discover appropriate means for those ends 
which are pointed out to us by our physical constitution. In 
this respect, reason takes the place in man of instinct in the 
brute creation. But a sense of duty is not needed for the per- 
formance of this office, so that we still ask, why we were gifted 
with this sense. The manifold arrangements and beautiful 
contrivances, with which the purely material universe abounds, 
all subserve important ends, and in these ends we read the pur- 
poses of their Contriver. Each has its part to play in uphold- 



THE CONTENTS OF THE MOKxVL LAW. 325 

ing the fabric of that universe of which it is a portion, and we 
know that it was designed to fill that part. But the law of right, 
with the consciousness of it which animates every human breast, 
has no such function to perform. Earth's base is not built upon 
it ; nor does it form the pillars which support the material fir- 
mament. The outer world might exist without it, as the geolo- 
gists tell us it did, for ages before it was tenanted by man. The 
laws of gravitation, chemical affinity, and the like, — if I may 
adopt for a moment the phraseology of a theory which I repu- 
diate, — all work to visible and highly useful ends ; — Does the 
law of morality alone answer no purpose in the universe which 
God has made ? 

Conscience overrules all considerations of utility. — The ques- 
tion becomes still more striking, when we remember that con- 
science not only is not needed for any of the offices which we 
have thus far considered, but that it absolutely precludes all 
reference to them, when their performance would come in conflict 
with any of its own absolute commands. The call of duty must 
be obeyed, though the appetites should remain without their 
appropriate food, and the desires should languish, and the intel- 
lect should forget its cunning ; the demands of justice must be 
satisfied, though the body should perish, and even though the 
heavens should fall. And this peculiarity in the law of con- 
science enables us to prove, that one beneficial result, which 
actually is accomplished by implanting this faculty in man, still 
does not reveal the reason or purpose for which it was so im- 
planted. The law does conduce to the laelfare of society, which 
probably could not even exist without it. That state of things 
which Hobbes imagined and described with so much graphic 
power, as the natural state of man, unquestionably would be his 
natural state, if, as Hobbes supposed, his desires and actions 
were not controlled by any innate sense of right. Every man 
would be the natural enemy of his fellow, the passions and ap- 
petites stimulating him to grasp at every thing which pleased 
his senses, or promised future enjoyment, without regard to any 
principle of ownership, and without consciousness of any law, 
whether human or Divine, which forbade robbery or unpro- 

28 



326 THE CONTENTS OF THE MORAL LAW. 

voked aggression. Man would be a solitary and purely selfish 
animal, never meeting even his nearest relative except in a 
struggle to wrest from him any valuable which his strength or 
ingenuity had created. There could be " no arts, no letters, no 
society ; and the life of man [would be] solitary, poor, nasty, 
brutish, and short." 

But conscience furnishes that restraining and regulating force 
which Hobbes could find only in a wise despotism. The feel- 
ing of moral obligation introduces order into this chaos. The 
individual voluntarily submits to the ordinances of society de- 
creed and enforced for the common good, because the sense of 
duty, the idea of submission to law and right, is inwoven in his 
constitution. He becomes capable of human government, 
because Divine government is established in his own bosom. 
And as society in this way first becomes practicable, so its wel- 
fare is promoted just in proportion to the prevalence of the 
sense of right among its members. If the practice of virtue 
were universal, if men acted up to their own convictions of 
duty, there would be no need of human legislation, or of any 
external apparatus for the government of man. 

Virtue not enjoined for the sake of its outward beneficial con- 
sequences. — Still, I say, the great good thus effected is not the 
object for which the practice of virtue is enjoined. Conscience 
itself informs us that it is not ; far from laying down the rule 
because its observance would be beneficial to society, it erects 
the rule itself into a standard to which our regard for the wel- 
fare, the material well-being, of the community must conform. 
Justice must be enforced, though the commonwealth should suf- 
fer for it. Though the pride of the state should be humiliated, 
and its power be diminished, and its prosperity should receive a 
real or a seeming check, the law of right must be obeyed. It 
must have absolute sway and masterdom, for in this light alone 
it is revealed to us. Virtue is an end, never a means ; and, of 
course, the end can never become subservient to the means. 
Instead of saying, therefore, that the moral law was enacted for 
the benefit of society, in order that men might live peace- 
ably and profitably together, it would be more proper to affirm, 



THE CONTENTS OF THE MORAL LAW. 327 

that, so far as we can see into the designs of Providence, soci- 
ety itself was intended to be only the occasion and the theatre for 
the display and development of this law, in order that the virtues 
which it enjoins might have scope and objects on which they 
might be exercised. The good which the community reaps 
from the cultivation of virtue, is, therefore, an incidental advan- 
tage of the law, not the great purpose for which it was or- 
dained. 

The law of conscience reveals the character of the Creator. — 
Finding, then, that no object or purpose, inferior in dignity and 
excellence to the law of rectitude itself, affords any sufficient 
reason why that law was engraved on the human soul, we are 
compelled to admit, that the contents of the law are simply a, 
revelation of the character of the Creator. Absolute rectitude 
or holiness is His will, because it is His nature, and the law which 
requires it is a reflection of that nature. In its purity and com- 
prehensiveness, in its primary reference to character rather 
than conduct, in governing the affections and motives whence the 
acts proceed, rather than the acts themselves, and in its claim to 
absolute dominion and supremacy, excluding even the idea of 
subserviency to lower ends, the law images to us the perfec- 
tions of Him from whom we received it. 

Thus, by the way of observation and experience, we arrive 
at that conclusion respecting the moral attributes of the Al- 
mighty, which is usually obtained deductively, or by necessary 
inference from his eternal and uncaused duration. This course 
is most satisfactory to my own mind, because it does not leave 
us to reconcile as we may the unlimited conclusions of a priori 
reasoning with the subsequent lessons of experience ; but the 
doctrine carries its own justification along with it, and harmo- 
nizes with all which we have previously learned from the 
study of external nature, and of our own intellectual and moral 
being. 

Conscience requires perfection. — It is unnecessary here to 
carry out the reasoning in detail, and deduce the moral attri- 
butes of God, one by one, from the requisitions of our moral na- 
ture. This application of the argument is sufficiently easy and 



328 THE MORAL LAW ENFORCED. 

obvious. We need only remark, that these requisitions are un- 
limited. Every virtue, every trait of character, that is to be 
cultivated at all, is enjoined to its utmost extent, perfection be- 
ing the only standard that is placed before us. It is not a cer- 
tain measure of justice that we are required to render towards 
our fellow-beings, but absolute justice, to all men, and on all 
occasions. "We have proof, then, that the moral attributes of 
the Almighty exist each in its perfection ; in Him are absolute 
justice, purity, truth, and love. 

How far the natural course of events enforces the law of right. 
— It only remains to inquire, if the evidence from without tends 
to strengthen and confirm, that belief in the moral government 
of God, which is founded primarily upon the internal constitu- 
tion of our faculties ; — in other words, if the natural course of 
things in the external world, the ordinary tendencies of human 
affairs, harmonize with and enforce those laws which are set 
up in the conscience. As both the inner and the outer world 
are under the guidance of the same wise and omnipotent Being, 
we naturally expect that the testimonies of the two will coin- 
cide, or that the principles established in the one will be, to a 
great extent, or in all their main features, carried out in the 
other. I say, " to a great extent ; " because we do not look, in 
the current of human fortunes, for that immediate and invariable 
enforcement of the moral law, which woidd either deprive man 
of his free agency, or reduce his virtue to a mere selfish regard 
for his own happiness. If, for instance, honesty were the best 
policy, not merely as a general principle, and in the long run, 
but always, instantly, and plainly, there would be great danger 
that men would altogether cease to be honest, in the proper 
sense of the term, and would be only politic. So weak are 
human purposes, that we cannot often be certain of ourselves, 
until an emergency arises in which we are required to be virtu- 
ous at some apparent cost, or by some sacrifice. God's justice 
will be sufficiently vindicated, if it shall at length appear, that 
the cost is only apparent, and that the sacrifice is ultimately re- 
paid a hundred fold. 

How happiness is distributed in this world, — What we ob- 



THE MORAL LAW ENFORCED. 329 

serve of the distribution of happiness in this world between the 
virtuous and the wicked, has been so clearly and fully stated by 
Adam Smith, in his Theory of Moral Sentiments, that I borrow 
his language. " If we consider," he says, " the general rules 
by which external prosperity and adversity are commonly dis- 
tributed in this life, we shall find, that notwithstanding the 
disorder in which ail things appear to be in this world, yet even 
here, every virtue naturally meets with its proper reward, with 
the recompense which is most fit to encourage and promote it ; 
and this, too, so surely, that it requires a very extraordinary 
concurrence of circumstances entirely to disappoint it. What 
is the reward most proper for encouraging industry, prudence, 
and circumspection ? Success in every sort of business. And 
is it possible, that, in the whole of life, these virtues should fail 
of attaining it ? Wealth and external honors are their proper 
recompense, and the recompense which they can seldom fail of 
acquiring. What reward is most proper for promoting the 
practice of truth, justice, and humanity ? The confidence, the 
esteem and love, of those we live with. Humanity does not 
desire to be great, but to be beloved. It is not in being rich 
that truth and justice would rejoice, but in being trusted and 
believed, — recompenses which those virtues must almost al- 
ways acquire. 

" By some very extraordinary and unlucky circumstance, a 
good man may come to be suspected of a crime, of which he 
was altogether incapable, and upon that account, be most un- 
justly exposed, for the remaining part of his life, to the horror 
and aversion of mankind. By an accident of this kind, he may 
be said to lose his all, notwithstanding his integrity and justice ; 
in the same manner as a cautious man, notwithstanding his ut- 
most circumspection, may be ruined by an earthquake or an 
inundation. Accidents of the first kind, however, are perhaps 
still more rare, and still more contrary to the common course of 
things, than those of the second ; and it still remains true, that 
the practice of truth, justice, and humanity is a certain and 
almost infallible method of acquiring what those virtues chiefly 
aim at, the confidence and love of those we live with. A per- 

28* 



330 THE MORAL LAW ENFORCED. 

son may be very easily misrepresented with regard to a particu- 
lar action ; but it is scarce possible that lie should be so with 
regard to the general tenor of his conduct. An innocent man 
may be believed to have done wrong ; this, however, will rarely 
happen. On the contrary, the established opinion of the inno- 
cence of his manners will often lead us to absolve him where 
he has really been in fault, notwithstanding very strong pre- 
sumptions. A knave, in the same manner, may escape censure, 
or even meet with applause, for a particular knavery in which 
his conduct is not understood. But no man was ever habitually 
such, -without being almost universally known to be so, and 
without being even frequently suspected of guilt when he was 
in reality perfectly innocent. And so far as vice and virtue 
can be either punished or rewarded by the sentiments and 
opinions of mankind, they both, according to the common 
course of things, meet, even here, with something more than 
exact and impartial justice." 

The connection between virtue and happiness admitted by all 
men. — But my point is, perhaps, sufficiently established by a 
general reference to the fact, that nearly all writers upon the 
theory of ethics, some of whom have written against the evi- 
dences of religion, have yet traced a close connection between 
virtue and happiness ; many of them going so far as to main- 
tain, that virtue is obligatory only because it is useful ; * and 

* Hume, in his Principles of Morals, adopts the Selfish System to its 
full extent, maintaining that the virtues are obligatory upon us only 
because they are pleasing and amiable, and because they conduce to our 
own welfare and to the welfare of those around us, in whom we are in- 
terested by sympathy. According to this System, self-denial is not a vir- 
tue ; a sacrifice of happiness can never be a duty, since an action becomes 
obligatory only so far as it conduces to happiness. "Are not justice, 
fidelity, honor, veracity, allegiance, chastity," he inquires, " esteemed solely 
on account of their tendency to promote the good of society ? " Speaking of 
industry, discretion, frugality, etc., he asks, " can it be doubted, that the 
tendency of these qualities to promote the interest and happiness of their 
possessor, is the sole foundation of their merit?" He had previously de- 
clared, that "personal merit consists altogether in the possession of mental 
qualities useful or agreeable to the person himself, or to others." On this 



THE MORAL LAW ENFORCED. 331 

others, more trustworthy, holding up utility as the only safe 
criterion or test ol right conduct; so that, when we are in 
doubt whether a certain action is morally right or wrong, the 



ground, such pleasing personal qualities as wit, good-manners, affability, 
liveliness, etc., are elevated by him to the rank of virtues ; while self-denial, 
humility, and the like, are transferred to " the opposite column," and placed 
" in the catalogue of vices." 

In answer to this sophistry, it is enough to say, that conscience requires 
us to act justly, even to the extent, if necessary, of abridging our own 
means of happiness, and injuring the welfare of the community in which 
we live. It is not necessary to prove, that an act of justice may sometimes 
require such a sacrifice. It is enough that the agent believes he is resign- 
ing some personal good, or is perilling his own welfare, by following the 
dictates of conscience. There may be a compensation to him in the long 
run ; bat if he does not foresee that compensation, does not believe that he 
will obtain it, and acts altogether without reference to it, then, in the view 
of all the spectators of his conduct, his merit is enhanced by his disin- 
terestedness. According to Hume, this very disinterestedness renders the 
action blamable instead of praiseworthy. If an apparently benevolent 
action is found to have a taint of selfishness in it, if the agent was really 
consulting his own good while he appeared to be acting solely for others, 
he actually forfeits all claim to the approbation of other persons or of his 
own conscience ; but, according to Hume, his merit would be enhanced by 
such a motive. In respect to the definitions of virtue and personal merit 
which lead Hume to confound tcdents with virtues, Dugald Stewart justly 
remarks, " nothing can be plainer than that the words virtue and vice are 
applicable only to those parts of our character and conduct which depend 
on our own voluntary exertions. Sensibility, gayety, liveliness, good- 
humor, natural affection, are a source of pleasure to every beholder, and, 
wherever they are to be found, entitle the possessor to the appellation of 
amiable ; but in so far as they result from original constitution, or from 
external circumstances over which he had no control, they certainly do not 
render him an object of moral approbation." 

Still, the testimony of such a moralist as Hume upon the point con- 
sidered in the text, — the intimate connection between virtue and happi- 
ness, — is valuable, for it is the testimony of an opponent of all religion. 
The following passage is the conclusion of his " Inquiry concerning the 
Principles of Morals." 

" Let a man suppose that he has full power of modelling his own dis- 
position, and let him deliberate what appetite or desire he would chooso 
for the foundation of his happiness and enjoyment. Every affection, 
he would observe, when gratified by success, gives a satisfaction propor- 



332 THE MORAL LAW ENFORCED. 

only mode of resolving that doubt is to inquire, whether the 
action is, on the whole, beneficial or injurious to the agent, to 
society, and to mankind. There may be a few moralists who 



tioned to its force and violence : but besides this advantage, common 
to all, the immediate feeling of benevolence and friendship, humanity 
and kindness, is sweet, smooth, tender, and agreeable, independent of 
all fortune and accidents. These virtues are, besides, attended with a 
pleasing consciousness or remembrance, and keep us in humor with 
ourselves as well as others ; while we retain the agreeable reflection of 
having done our part towards mankind and society. And though all men 
show a jealousy of our success in the pursuits of avarice and ambition ; 
yet are we almost sure of their good-will and good wishes, so long as we 
persevere in the paths of virtue, and employ ourselves in the execution of 
generous plans and purposes. What other passion is there where we shall 
find so many advantages united ; an agreeable sentiment, a pleasing con- 
sciousness, a good reputation ? But of these truths, we may observe, men 
are of themselves pretty much convinced ; nor are they deficient in their 
duty to society, because they would not wish to be generous, friendly, and 
humane, but because they do not feel themselves such. 

" Treating vice with the greatest candor, and making it all possible con- 
cessions, we must acknowledge that there is not, in any instance, the 
smallest pretext for giving it the preference above virtue, with a view to 
self-interest ; except, perhaps, in the case of justice, where a man, taking 
things in a certain light, may often seem to be a loser by his integrity. 
And though it is allowed that, without a regard to property, no society 
could subsist, yet, according to the imperfect way in which human affairs 
are conducted, a sensible knave, in particular incidents, may think that an 
act of iniquity or infidelity will make considerable addition to his fortune, 
without causing any considerable breach in the social union and con- 
federacy. That honesty is the best policy may be a good general rule, but 
is liable to many exceptions. And he, it may perhaps be thought, con- 
ducts himself with most wisdom, who observes the general rule, and takes 
advantage of all the exceptions. 

" I must confess, that if a man think that this reasoning much requires 
an answer, it will be a bttle difficult to find any which will to him appear 
satisfactory and convincing. If his heart rebel not against such pernicious 
maxims, if he feel no reluctance to the thoughts of villany or baseness, 
he has indeed lost a considerable motive to virtue ; and we may expect 
that his practice will be answerable to his speculation. But in all ingen- 
uous natures, the antipathy to treachery and roguery is too strong to be 
counterbalanced by any views of profit or pecuniary advantage. Inward 
peace of mind, consciousness of integrity, a satisfactory review of our own 



THE MORAL LAW ENFORCED. 333 

would not accept either of these doctrines in so broad and un- 
qualified a manner as I have stated them ; but I never heard 
of one who was bold enough to maintain, that vice, on the whole, 
was the best policy for the individual, or most likely to promote 
the interests of society ; the common sense of mankind would 
instantly reject so monstrous a paradox. For the truth on this 
subject is held not merely by instructed and reflecting men, by 
those who are inclined to speculative pursuits, or who have 
made ethics a favorite study, but it is embodied in a multitude 
of those proverbs and axiomatic sayings, which are the reposi- 
tories of the wisdom and the experience of the bulk of mankind. 
Poor Richard's morality is a mere string of such sayings, all 
going to show the invariable connection between integrity, so- 
briety, and industry on the one hand, and health, peace of mind, 
reputation, and riches on the other. The indignation or sorrow 
which we feel, when one of these virtues fails to meet its appro- 
priate reward, or when, in solitary instances, knavery or indo- 



conduct, these are circumstances very requisite to happiness, and will be 
cherished and cultivated by every honest man who feels the importance of 
them. 

" Such a one has, besides, the frequent satisfaction of seeing knaves, 
with all their pretended cunning and abilities, betrayed by their own 
maxims ; and while they purpo.se to cheat with moderation and secrecy, a 
tempting incident occurs, nature is frail, and they give into the snare ; 
whence they can never extricate themselves, without a total loss of repu- 
tation, and the forfeiture of all future trust and confidence with mankind. 

" But were they ever so secret and successful, the honest man, if he has 
any tincture of philosophy, or even common observation and reflection, 
will discover that they themselves are, in the end, the greatest dupes, and 
have sacrificed the invaluable enjoyment of a character, with themselves at 
least, for the acquisition of worthless toys and gewgaws. How little is 
requisite to supply the necessities of nature? And in a view to pleasure, 
what comparison between the unbought satisfaction of conversation, so- 
ciety, study, even health and the common beauties of nature, but above 
all, the peaceful reflection on one's own conduct, — what comparison, I 
say, between these, and the feverish, empty amusements of luxury and 
expense 1 These natural pleasures, indeed, are really withoxit price ; both 
because they are below all price in their attainment, and above it in their 
enjoyment." 



334 THE MORAL LAW ENFORCED. 

lence seems for a time to prosper, is always mingled with sur- 
prise at an occurrence so unlooked for ; and the prominence 
which the case at once assumes, the frequency of the allusions 
to it, shows both that our moral constitution is very sensitive in 
this respect, and that the vast majority of examples turn the 
other way. 

Pleasures and pains are intended to urge us to right conduct. 
— There are many pleasures and pains which follow so closely 
upon the virtuous and vicious actions of which they are the le- 
gitimate consequences, or have so obvious and intimate a con- 
nection with them, that even the most unthinking or immoral 
persons are obliged to admit, that these consequences are proper 
rewards and punishments, which were intended both to guide 
and to urge us to right conduct. Take the effects upon the 
bodily health, for instance. It is notorious, that vice enfeebles, 
corrupts, poisons, and destroys the physical constitution, while 
virtue invigorates and preserves it, retards the approach of dis- 
ease, or mitigates its virulence when it comes, sweetens life and 
prolongs it. The laws of hygiene, when well understood, are hut 
interpretations of the laws of morals. The physician will tell 
you, that he who desires the greatest of all earthly blessings — 
a sound mind in a sound body — has no shorter course for ob- 
taining it than by making himself a thoroughly good man. The 
unhappy consequences of intemperance and debauchery, of 
riotous and malevolent passions, are so many beacons erected 
along the roadside, to warn the traveller against even occasional 
deviations from the path of rectitude. Debility, consumption, 
fever, insanity, and nearly all the other ills that flesh is heir to, 
when traced to their sources, are usually seen to be the results 
of imprudence or sin ; and even if apparently transmitted by 
inheritance, so that the immediate sufferer under them is guilt- 
less, the warning which they utter is only the more impressive, 
as they show that the sins of the fathers are visited upon the 
children, and the natural affections are thus more strongly en- 
listed on the side of virtue. Can any one even imagine, that 
this direct connection between right conduct and bodily health, 
is accidental or meaningless ? Ought we not rather to consider 



THE MORAL LAW ENFORCED. 335 

it but as one feature, and that not the most prominent one, in 
the broad scheme of Divine government, all the parts of which 
are consistent with each other, and all visibly tend to the up- 
holding of that law which is written upon the heart ? 

The tendencies of virtue and vice. — We have still further 
proof that virtue is advantageous both to the virtuous man and 
to society, if we look not only to its direct consequences, but 
to its tendencies. There are many hindrances here below to 
what may be called the natural operation of things. Take 
away these impediments ; give time, scope, and opportunity for 
each cause to work separately, and produce its appropriate re- 
sults, unobstructed by the action of other causes, and we shall 
more easily discern its true nature and peculiar effects. Virtue 
and vice, for instance, are commingled among men, and even in 
the same person ; the beneficial effects of the one are hidden or 
neutralized by the unhappy consequences of the other ; the 
merit of a good action is obscured by the misconduct that fol- 
lows it. An upright man suffers from the crimes of his ances- 
tors or his neighbors ; even in this case, we see that crime is 
punished, or has injurious tendencies ; only merit does not seem 
to receive its due. In fact, it is rewarded, for the suffering 
which flows from the crimes of others would be enhanced, if the 
sufferer himself were also guilty. As it is, his innocence miti- 
gates the blow, the consciousness of integrity, under any circum- 
stances being one of the greatest delights the mmd can expe- 
rience. Isolate each case, consider how virtue and vice would 
work, if they were not brought in contact with each other, and 
their respective tendencies, or the true character of their effects, 
will be revealed. 

Suppose, for example, as Bishop Butler has done, the exist- 
ence of a republic or society of men, perfectly virtuous, during 
a succession of ages. Selfishness, fraud, or treachery, would 
have no part in their councils ; they would deliberate only about 
the best means of effecting good, and no force would be needed 
in order to carry their decisions into effect. Envy having no 
place among them, the direction of affairs would readily be con- 
ceded to those who had the most intelligence and capacity ; and 



336 THE MORAL LAW ENFORCED. 

these would covet the post only from the superior advantages it 
afforded for carrying out their benevolent schemes or projects 
for advancing the common welfare. As all would be equally 
industrious, poverty with its long train of ills would be unknown ; 
almshouses would be no more needed than prisons. Health and 
long life would reward their temperance and the restraint of 
their passions, and death would be only the painless sequel of 
old age, when one was satiated with living. The neighboring 
communities, revering their virtues or admiring their prosperity, 
would hasten to place themselves under their dominion ; and 
their peaceful victories would far exceed all that have ever 
been gained by the sword. 

I know that this supposition could never be realized, except 
by a change miraculously effected in the hearts of men ; but 
improbable as it seems, is it any thing more than a faithful de- 
lineation of what the consequences of virtue would be, if it 
were possible to separate them from the effects of vice ? Grant 
that such characters are possible, and even from what we now 
see of the current of this world's affairs, is it not certain that 
such conduct and such prosperity would be the result? If so, 
the intentions of the Almighty are apparent even in the present 
and actual constitution of things. Virtue, as such, is rewarded, 
and vice, as such, is punished, in spite of the seeming confusion 
that results from both these classes of effects being visible at 
the same time. 

Tlie inward delights of virtue. — However the outward ad- 
vantages of right conduct may be hidden for a time, the inward 
delights which it produces are constant and of vast importance ; 
and as these result from the general constitution of our 
minds, apart from the moral faculty itself, they are properly 
ranked among the incentives to and rewards of virtue. It is 
well observed by Sir James Mackintosh, that although there 
may be immortal acts which, hi some sense, or for a season, 
appear to be advantageous to the actor, " the whole sagacity 
and ingenuity of the world may be safely challenged to point 
out a case, in which virtuous dispositions, habits, and feelings 
are not conducive in the highest degree to the happiness of 



TIIE MORTAL LAW ENFORCED. 337 

the individual ; or to maintain that he is not the happiest, whose 
moral sentiments and affections are such as to prevent the possi- 
bility of the prospect of advantage, through unlawful means, from 
presenting itself to his mind. It would, indeed, have been im- 
possible to prove to Regulus, that it was his interest [volun- 
tarily] to return to a death of torture in Africa, [merely because 
he had plighted his word that he would return]. But what if 
the proof had been easy ? The most thorough conviction on 
such a point would not have enabled him to set this example, if 
he had not been supported by his own integrity and generosity, 
by love of his country, and reverence for his pledged faith. 
What could the conviction add to that greatness of soul, and to 
these glorious attributes ? With such virtues, he could not act 
otherwise than he did. Would a father, affectionately inter- 
ested in a son's happiness, of very lukewarm feelings of moral- 
ity, but of good sense enough to weigh gratifications and suffer- 
ings exactly, be really desirous that his son should have these 
virtues in a less degree than Regulus, merely because they 
might expose him to the fate which Regulus chose ? On the 
coldest calculation, he would surely perceive, that the high and 
glowing feelings of such a mind during life, altogether throw 
into the shade a few hours of agony in leaving it. And if he 
himself were so unfortunate, that no more generous sentiment 
arose in his mind to silence such calculations, would it not be a 
reproach to his understanding not to discover, that though, in 
one case out of millions, such a chai^acter might lead a Regulus 
to torture, yet, in the common course of nature, it is the source 
not only of happiness hi life, but of quiet and honor in death ? 
A case so extreme as that of Regulus will not perplex, if we 
bear in mind, that, though we cannot prove the act of heroic 
virtue to be conducive to the interest of the hero, yet we may 
perceive at once, that nothing is so conducive to his interest- as 
to have a mind so formed that it could not shrink from it, but 
must rather embrace it with gladness and triumph." 

This case is not so singular as we are apt to imagine. Every 
prisoner of ivar who observes his parol, though the consequence 
to himself is a long and irksome captivity, acts from the same 

29 



338 THE MORAL LAW ENFORCED. 

motives which guided the conduct of the Roman hero, and at a 
sacrifice, which, though less than his, is still considerable. But 
in the estimate not only of his comrades, with their peculiar 
notions of honor, but of all mankind, this sacrifice is so far from 
being unaccompanied by a full recompense in the high and 
pleasurable feelings which attend it, that, if he fails to make 
it, he becomes an object of universal pity and contempt. 

Human government is but one form of Divine government. — 
That many of the rewards and punishments which wait upon 
the observance or infraction of the Divine law, are dispensed at 
human tribunals, or through the agency of men in society, is no 
proof that they are not divinely appointed. Human government 
is but one form or manifestation of Heaven's direction and con- 
trol, — rendered somewhat less upright and sure, it is true, by 
passing through man's hands, but yet created in all its essential 
features by what are called the necessities of the case ; — that is, 
arranged with reference to the wants and interests of society, 
these wants and interests being determined by the general con- 
stitution of things, or by tfrfe ordinary current of human affairs, 
which is formed and guided by the wisdom and power of the 
Deity. Grime, for instance, is punished by men, not so much 
because it is disobedience to God, as because it is prejudicial to 
society ; but then it is God's appointment that it should, be thus 
prejudicial to society, and that men should thereby be urged to 
punish it. Now the prevailing tone and direction of human 
law, in all countries and all ages, is coincident with the dictates 
of conscience. Virtue is rewarded, and vice is punished, by so- 
ciety. Examine all the codes of law that have ever been framed, 
and you will find that their chief purpose and tendency are to 
repress immoral conduct, and to encourage and protect the 
innocent and the virtuous. That government is a bad one, which 
fails to cany out these purposes with sufficient vigor, prompt- 
ness, and effect, or which mingles up with them more or less of 
unholy ambition and arrogant self-will ; but no government was 
ever wicked enough to reverse these purposes, and to aim 
directly and avowedly at the encouragement of vice, the dis- 
tress of innocence, and the punishment of goodness. Even an 



THE MORAL LAW ENFORCED. 339 

Asiatic despotism professes, and probably intends, to punish 
theft, perjury, fraud, and unprovoked injury, in all cases where 
its own interest is not immediately concerned ; that is, of course, 
in the vast majority of cases that arise among its subjects. It 
may omit all the forms and precautions that civilized nations 
have come to observe, as the safeguards of innocence and pre- 
servatives against unintentional wrong ; it may administer wild 
justice, but justice is its aim ; it wields the sword against crime, 
and often with terrible effect. Even the law which regulates 
the intercourse of nations with each other, and which, prob- 
ably, is the most imperfect of human codes, still founds most of 
its provisions on the natural sense of right, and most of the 
actions which it forbids are decidedly immoral and injurious. 

It is an obvious remark, that a system or scheme of govern- 
ment should be distinguished from a number of single, uncon- 
nected acts of distributive justice and goodness. Now the in- 
stances already adduced, are surely enough to show, that if 
there be such a system or general plan, it is favorable to virtue, 
and was designed to encourage men in right conduct. All that 
can be urged on the other side amounts to a gleaning of discon- 
nected facts, in regard to which, it may be difficult to see that 
the law of equity, of righteous retribution, has been observed ; 
it is not pretended that these facts are numerous or grave enough 
to afford a presumption, either that the government is favorable 
to vice, or else that there is no government at all, — pleasure 
and pain, prosperity and adversity, being allotted at random. 
Thus much is admitted on all hands ; — that the virtuous man is 
prosperous is the rule ; that the vicious sometimes succeed, is the 
exception. We have a right, then, to appeal to our ignorance 
and shortsightedness, to our limited means of observation, in or- 
der to explain away even these few exceptions. We cannot trace 
all the consequences of another's act ; those which are near may 
be injurious, those which are remote may be beneficial, and far 
more numerous and important. We cannot enter into the mind 
of the agent, and discern what secret satisfaction is there, which 
far outweighs the external harm. Above all, wc may be mis- 
taken in the character of the act itself, and lose sight of the dis- 



340 THE MORAL LAW ENFORCED. 

tinction between absolute and relative rectitude. A seemingly 
meritorious deed may have bad its origin in selfishness ; another, 
wrongful in its outward aspect, may have proceeded from the 
highest and holiest intentions. We are not, then, lightly to sup- 
pose that the moral government of God is at fault, even in iso- 
lated cases. 

The moral ivorld subject to general laws, as well as the physical 
world. — We conclude, then, from an abundance of testimony, 
that the sense of moral obligation, which rises spontaneously in 
the mind of every human being, and is as much a part of his 
constitution as his reason or his senses, is supported and en- 
forced by arrangements in the world without, and by the course 
of events in the external history of man. The law has been 
traced up to the Lawgiver, and in the contents of the law we 
have found a delineation of the character of its Author. We 
now learn, that, as the Creator and Governor of the universe, 
he has established a harmony between the requisitions of that 
law which he has imprinted on the conscience, and the external 
fortunes of men, or the current of this world's affairs. The 
moral world, or the history of mankind, is no more an unregu- 
lated chaos, or a fortuitous combination and succession of dis- 
similar and characterless events, than is the physical universe. 
In both, we discern, not merely the filaments of order, but a 
closely woven web covered with a uniform and glorious pattern. 
General laws, as they are called, — literally in the former case, 
metaphorically in the latter, — are found to pervade the whole 
fabric. It is not more certain, that the forms and changes of 
aggregations of matter are determined according to the princi- 
ples of gravitation, affinity, definite proportions, and the like, 
than it is that the consequences of human action and the annals 
of human life accord with the fixed principles of morals and 
the stern demands of distributive justice. To the uninstructed 
mind, not trained in habits of scientific observation, and unskil- 
ful in finding the key which converts an apparent maze into an 
harmonious and well proportioned plan, there are not only many 
anomalies, but seeming lawlessness and confusion in both. 

Apparent exceptions really prove the general rule. — If the 



THE MORAL LAW ENFORCED. 341 

child or the savage, for instance, should begin to trace the 
yearly paths of the planets among the stars, as they actually 
appear to the observer from the earth, should combine and com- 
pare such observations for successive years, and thus come to 
know the alternate direct and retrograde motions of these 
bodies, recurring at irregular intervals, the quickening and re- 
tarding of their pace, their occasional stops, and the strange 
curves which they describe on the nightly skies, he would cer- 
tainly conclude, that their seemingly fantastic movements could 
neither be traced to any fixed cause working uniformly, nor 
reduced to any plain and symmetrical system. He would 
rather class them with the arbitrary turns, the inconstant sway- 
ing, rising, and falling of a single feather left to float at random 
in the wind. But the man of science places before you the 
simple diagram of the solar system, explains each illusion that 
arises from the position of the observer on the earth, deduces 
every movement that takes place from the single principle of 
gravitation, by the v aid of which he can predict the very point 
of space which either of the orbs will occupy at any future mo- 
ment, and thus shows, in truth, that the simplicity of the scheme, 
and the harmony of all its parts with each other, are its most 
striking features. He will even find harmony and law in the 
capricious movements of the feather, and show that all its gyra- 
tions may be traced to the same law of gravitation which 
directs the planets, and which operates as regularly and abso- 
lutely in this case, as in guiding those vast bodies in their swift 
flight around the sun. 

Just so the moral world, the history of the individual, of na- 
tions, and of the race, to the unreflecting or careless mind, seems 
to present a mere jumble of events, — the blind goddess of for- 
tune distributing the parts, and allotting at random to each per- 
former the measure of good and evil in this life which he is 
fated to receive. But study this maze by the aid of the eternal 
principles of right and wrong which are enthroned in every 
heart, strive to go behind the external trappings of prosperity 
and adversity, to count the hours of real, not merely seeming, 
enjoyment, or, in other words, to explore the private history of 

29* 



342 THE MORAL LAW ENFORCED. 

every man, as well as the story of Ms outer and public life, and 
this confusion will clear away almost as fully as in the case of 
the physical universe. I say " almost as fully ; " for it cannot 
be denied, that the problem is more complicated in its very 
nature ; — the material universe, in all its ' large features, pre- 
sents to us exclusively the picture of God's doings ; the moral 
world, so far as it is visible to our eyes, shows the union of 
man's action with that of his Maker. God still governs, and 
that absolutely ; but through moral, not mechanical means. 
Human freewill is allowed a large theatre on which to develop 
itself, and the results are necessarily more complex and intri- 
cate than when Divine agency alone is exerted. Still, the gov- 
ernment prevails, order reigns, eternal laws are prescribed and 
enforced, and the purposes of the Almighty are carried out. 
In the distribution of bodily and mental health and disease ; in 
the conditions of what is called success in life ; in the secret 
contentment and joy which wait on the unostentatious fulfilment 
of ordinary duties, and in the glow and exaltation of feeling 
which accompany and reward a great apparent sacrifice for the 
right ; in the institutions of society and the sympathies of man- 
kind, which aim directly to encourage the good and to punish 
the evil-doer ; — in these and many other circumstances, I see 
all the grand features of a comprehensive plan, wisely contrived 
and efficiently carried out, to win men to the practice of virtue 
and to punish every violation of the moral law. If, in a few 
cases, I behold apparent exceptions to the rule, or am not able 
to trace the workings of the plan, I do but follow the ordinary 
principles of scientific method and inductive logic in maintain- 
ing, with full-assured belief, that a more complete knowledge of 
the circumstances would show that the scheme operates even 
here, the seeming anomalies being in truth its most beautiful 
exemplifications. If a planet on the outer verge of our system 
shows perturbations for which, according to our present knowl- 
edge of that system, the law of gravity will not account, I do 
not therefore conclude that the law is suspended in this single 
case, but rather wait with firm trust for the progress of discovery 
to point out some still exterior orb, as yet invisible to mortal 



THE MORAL LAW ENFORCED. 343 

eyes, the action of which will explain the seeming disturbance, 
and make the law appear as universal as it is wise. 

The general ride should not he sought for in isolated cases. — 
The argument for the moral government, the justice and be- 
nevolence of the Deity in his ways with men, has, I think, suf- 
fered somewhat by the injudicious course of those who have 
treated it, in dwelling at too great length upon these isolated 
cases and seeming anomalies, as if at least a probable explana- 
tion of every one of them was needed before we could believe 
in the system ; or as if there could be no government at all, un- 
less, with our present imperfect means of information, we could 
plainly see iliat it was a perfect government. But the man of 
science will tell you, that the principle which really holds 
throughout a class is to be sought for, not among the few scat- 
tered members of that class which are least known, but in the 
vast majority of those cases which are most directly exposed to 
observation. Look away from these specks and anomalies, and 
contemplate the broad features of the case. He who, on the 
evidence thus presented, will still doubt, whether the general 
and widely prevailing tendency of this world's affairs is really 
to uphold the law of conscience by a system of rewards and 
punishments graduated to that end, and actually intended by 
the Disposer of ail things so to influence the conduct of men, is 
not a person to be reasoned with, but to be pitied. 

How anomalous facts in history are to be explained. — The 
history of distant countries and past ages affords some perplexi- 
ties in this view of the subject, precisely because it is a very 
imperfect description of men and events that are little known. 
We are prone to consider nations as individuals, morally respon- 
sible, and having a continuous life ; and hence to require that 
their external fortunes should be adjusted to their deserts, and 
thus the justice of God be vindicated on a large scale. Why, 
then, we ask, for instance, were the Northern barbarians allowed 
to overrun what was then the only enlightened portion of the 
globe, and to tread out all but the last spark of learning and 
civilization, as it seemed, for centuries to come ? I answer, 
first, that the researches of modern historians and philosophical 



344 THE MORAL LAW ENFORCED. 

inquirers have fully established the point, that this seeming 
deluge of barbarism actually renovated a soil that had become 
effete, and planted in it the fresh seeds of knowledge and pro- 
gress, which afterwards shot up in such luxuriance at the Re- 
vival of Letters. If a stranger, wholly unacquainted with the 
circumstances of the case, should happen to visit Egypt at the 
season when all its cultivated fields are under water, and the 
inhabitants are compelled to move "about in boats, he would 
probably conclude that the inundation of the Nile was a judg- 
ment upon the people for their sins. I answer, secondly, that 
a nation has only a fictitious unity and personality^ individuals 
being the only actual subjects of the Divine government. Now 
history teaches us but very little about individuals, except of 
the few who occupy thrones or other prominent stations in the 
state, and who, from the very peculiarity of their position, afford 
us no safe rule by which we can estimate the characters and 
fortunes of the multitude. If, therefore, when we trace the for- 
tunes of nations, the operation of the law is not very manifest, 
this is precisely what we might expect. Let the inquirer take 
the history of a single person, — especially his own history, the 
only one that he can know thoroughly, — and the fact that he 
lives under the Divine government becomes far more obvious. 
Let him inquire whether his own situation and experience fur- 
nish greater inducements for the practice of virtue or vice, and 
there is little fear that he will arrive at a false conclusion. 

It is true, then, in the moral as well as the physical sense, 
that God governs the earth, — governs it, too, in both cases, not 
by secondary causes or vicarious means, but by the direct and 
constant exertion of his own wisdom and power. The belief of 
the pious heart is also the conclusion of the enlightened under- 
standing, that the will of the Almighty determines all events, 
and disposes them for good. Science adopts and sanctions the 
theory of religion in regard to an overruling Providence ; — the 
theory which discerns a moral purpose in all things, maintain- 
ing that they were specially designed to produce a certain effect 
on the character and the conduct ; which subordinates the 
physical to the moral, considering the former as means, and the 



THE GOODNESS OF GOD. 345 

latter as an end ; which regards life as a gift and a trust, to be 
exercised for certain purposes, and death as a warning and a 
token that, in a particular case, these purposes have been 
accomplished. 



CHAPTER VI, 



THE GOODNESS OF GOD. 



Summary of the last chapter. — The brief examination, in the 
last chapter, of the contents of the law imprinted upon the con- 
science, of the nature of the precepts which it issues for our ob- 
servance, w r as intended to prove, that these injunctions reveal to 
us the character and attributes, as well as the purposes, of the 
Almighty. They do so, because they answer no lower purpose ; 
they are not subservient as means to any end but this. They were 
not required to stimulate the body or mind to exertion, or to 
direct that exertion, or to preserve and uphold the arrangements 
and the workings of the material universe. They are of abso- 
lute obligation, so that the advantages which the observance of 
them actually procures are to be considered as their guards and 
enforcers, not as their purpose or final cause. Consequently, 
they are, to the human mind which receives them, a revelation 
of pure will, or a manifestation of the Divine nature and glory, 
irrespective of any purposes which may be answered by the dis- 
play. Requiring perfection, or unlimited obedience, they show 
the perfections of their Author. 

The scheme of Divine government, I attempted to. show, 
includes a system of rewards and punishments, which follow 
immediately upon the observance or transgression of the law. 
Human life presents so many instances of these as to make the 
conclusion irresistible, that the current of this world's affairs, 



346 THE GOODNESS OF GOD. 

the natural course of events, is superintended and directed with 
a view to moral retribution. The object of the pains and pleas- 
ures which we experience, whether they grow out of our con- 
nection with the body, appearing as health or disease ; or out 
of the relations which bind men together in society, then taking 
the form of success or failure in life, and of the honors and 
penalties which society has to bestow ; or out of the constitution 
of the mind itself, in the various forms and degrees of remorse 
or inward gratification and the consciousness of merit ; — the 
object, I say, in all these cases, is to uphold and enforce the 
law of right. That the incidents of life are distributed with a 
view to this end is the general rule ; the apparent instances of 
an unequal or fortuitous distribution of them are only apparent, 
and they are the exceptions. There are a few seeming anoma- 
lies, which are most apt to present themselves in the considera- 
tion of those cases of which we know the least, — for instance, 
of historical personages and events, — while they very seldom 
trouble one's retrospect of his own experience ; here, knowing 
all, he knows that the law is carried out completely. And the 
proper conclusion, from the presence of such anomalies as we 
cannot explain, is, not that the doctrine of a superintending 
Providence must be given up altogether, that doctrine being 
supported by the vast majority of cases, but that we do not 
always know how such a Providence acts. It is certain that 
we are under a scheme of government ; but we are not able to 
follow all the workings of that scheme, or to assure ourselves, 
from direct observation, that it is perfect. The belief of the 
pious mind is hereby amply confirmed, that all events which 
affect our personal welfare, are dispensations of almighty wis- 
dom and justice. 

The infliction of pain not inconsistent with benevolence. — It 
has not been without design, that I have placed the argument 
for the moral government of God by a system of rewards and 
punishments before the consideration of the evidences of the 
Divine benevolence, though this is reversing the order usually 
adopted by writers upon the subject. But it is certain that the 
claims of justice are superior to those of mere benevolence. 



THE GOODNESS OF GOD. 347 

We are required to do good to our fellow-beings so far as we 
can without violating other and higher obligations ; we ought 
not to deprive another of that which is rightfully his own, or to 
utter an untruth, or to break our pledged faith, even for the 
sake of benefiting millions, while the wrong would be felt only 
by an individual. Nay, as the appointed ministers of justice, it 
may often be our duty to inflict suffering, and to stifle the emo- 
tions of sympathy and compassion which prompt us only to 
increase his happiness. What is done from such motives is no 
imputation upon the benevolence of the individual ; his heart 
may be overflowing with love to his neighbor, at the very mo- 
ment when he is doing him harm, or is the minister of the law 
to him for a righteous retribution. And generally, we may 
say, that the measure of immediate happiness or pain which is 
dispensed by any being is a very imperfect criterion of the real 
goodness of his disposition. The surgeon, for instance, is not 
necessarily a hardhearted man, though he passes his life in 
causing pain to others ; he intends, indeed, to benefit them ulti- 
mately ; but the benefit is remote and contingent, while the suf- 
fering caused by the operation is immediate and certain. In 
like manner, it may be better for the criminal himself, it may 
be more for his highest and most permanent interest, that he 
should be punished for his present offence, than that he should 
be permitted to sin with impunity. Yet men have argued as if 
the presence of any pain, the existence of any suffering, in the 
moral universe, was a fact irreconcilable with the infinite be- 
nevolence of the Creator. 

Punishment for wrong-doing is consistent with benevolence. — 
I do not dwell upon this consideration now, as a better occasion 
will arise for developing it afterwards. I have alluded to it 
here only to remind you, that, as the obligation to promote the 
happiness of others, is always secondary to the demands of jus- 
tice, we may at once, in estimating the proofs of the benevolence 
of the Deity, leave out of the account entirely all the pain which 
is evidently produced for the punishment and repression of sin. 
And how great is the deduction that will thus be made from the 
amount of suffering in the world ! How large a portion of the 



34.8 THE GOODNESS OF GOD. 

evils borne both by individuals and communities are attributable 
directly to their own misconduct, to their wilful disregard of the 
monitions of conscience ! The bodily frame, which is now lan- 
guid from inaction or enfeebled by disease, might have been 
active and vigorous, prompt to second every wish of its owner, 
and ministering to his enjoyment through every sense, joint, 
and limb. The community which is now torn with civil dis- 
sensions, or prostrated in an unequal strife with its rivals, might 
have been peaceful, affluent, and flourishing, if its rulers and 
their subjects had heeded the stern calls of duty, instead of 
blindly following their own tumultuous passions. Once admit 
the great truth, that virtue, not happiness, is man's highest in- 
terest, and most of the pains of this life indicate the goodness of 
God quite as clearly as its pleasures. Consider, further, that 
virtue must be spontaneous or self-cultivated, since what is 
compulsory or mechanical can afford no ground either for 
praise or blame, and most of the problems which would other- 
wise perplex us in a view of this world's affairs admit of an easy 
solution. 

Proofs of a preponderance of happiness. — But our present 
object is to inquire, whether there be not, on the whole, a vast 
preponderance of enjoyment in the world, from winch, without 
troubling ourselves yet about the presence of evil in a few 
cases, we may directly infer the kindness and benignity of the 
Supreme Being. It is hardly possible to add any thing to 
Paley's admirable summary of the argument upon this point, 
nor can the heads of it be more forcibly or succinctly stated 
than in his language. The first proposition is, " That in a vast 
plurality of instances in which contrivance is perceived, the de- 
sign of the contrivance is beneficial ; " the second, " That the 
Deity has superadded pleasure to animal sensations beyond 
what was necessary to any other purpose, or when the purpose, 
so far as it was necessary, might have been effected by the op- 
eration of pain." 

His assertion, however, that evil is never the object of con- 
trivance, needs to be explained and limited, before we can ad- 
mit it. Evil here does not mean mere pain, for this, I believe, 



THE GOODNESS OF GOD. 349 

is often intended and provided for, both to punish wrong, and to 
warn us against danger. But the distribution of this pain indi- 
cates pure benevolence united with perfect justice. It is never 
placed where it is not needed for some higher purpose ; and 
therefore it is never the ultimate object of contrivance.* It is 
needed, for instance, to discourage and repress wrong-doing, — 
the moral education of man being here the final aim of the ar- 
rangement. So the physiologists tell us, that the parts of the 
body which are most delicate and most exposed to injury from 
without, are rendered most acutely sensitive ; while those which 
are guarded in the main by their position, are not liable to pain. 
A mote, a grain of dust, in the eye, causes an intolerable smart ; 
while the deeply seated muscles and tendons may be cut or torn 
almost witnout the consciousness of suffering. There are good 
reasons to believe, that the sensibility of the lower animals to 
pain is very slight, a warning of danger being comparatively 
useless to them, who have not reason and foresight to take 

* As an apology for venturing to criticize this masterly argument by 
Paley, I quote the whole of it, since it is unrivalled for vigor, simplicity, 
and conclusiveness. 

"Contrivance proves design; and the predominant tendency of the 
contrivance indicates the disposition of the designer. The world abounds 
with contrivances ; and all the contrivances which we are acquainted with, 
are directed to beneficial purposes. Evil, no doubt, exists ; but is never, 
that we can perceive, the object of contrivance, Teeth are contrived to 
eat, not to ache ; their aching now and then is incidental to the con- 
trivance, perhaps inseparable from it ; or even, if you will, let it be called 
a defect in the contrivance ; but it is not the object of it. This is a dis- 
tinction which well deserves to be attended to. In describing implements 
of husbandry, you would hardly say of the sickle, that it is made to cut 
the reaper's fingers, though, from the construction of the instrument, and 
the manner of using it, this mischief often happens. But if you had 
occasion to describe instruments of torture or execution, — this engine, 
you would say, is to extend the sinews ; this to dislocate the joints ; this 
to break the bones ; this to scorch the soles of the feet. Here, pain and 
misery are the very objects of the contrivance. Now, nothing of this sort 
is to be found in the works of nature. We never discover a train of con- 
trivance to bring about an evil purpose. No anatomist ever discovered a 
system of organization calculated to produce pain and disease ; or, in 
explaining the parts of the human body, ever said, This is to irritate ; 

30 



350 THE GOODNESS OF GOD. 

measures to avert it. The horse and the cow, when shockingly 
wounded in the lower extremities, have been observed to move 
about, even upon their bloody stumps, and to graze with appa- 
rent unconcern. The head of a dragon-fly will eat after it is 
severed from the body ; and Mr. Kirby saw a cockchafer walk- 
ing with no show of uneasiness, after a bird had almost wholly 
deprived its body of the viscera. The noted saying, that 

" the poor beetle which we tread upon, 
In corporal sufferance, feels a pang as great 
As when a giant dies," 

however calculated to extend the range of our sympathies, cer- 
tainly contains more poetry than truth. 

Enjoyment is the rule, pain is only the exception. — But we 
are more concerned now to observe, that in unnumbered in- 
stances throughout God's creation, the production of happiness 
is the sole object of the contrivance. The natural operation 
of all the senses, organs, and faculties is a source of pleasure. 

this to inflame ; this duct is to convey the gravel to the kidneys ; this 
gland to secrete the humor which forms the gout : if by chance he comes 
at a part of which he knows not the use, the most he can say is, that it is 
useless ; no one ever suspects that it is put there to incommode, to an- 
noy, or to torment. Since, then, God has called forth his consummate 
wisdom to contrive and provide for our happiness, and the world appears 
to be constituted with this design at first ; so long as this constitution is 
upholden by him, we must in reason suppose the same design to continue. 
" The contemplation of universal nature rather bewilders the mind than 
affects it. There is always a bright spot in the prospect, upon which the 
eye rests ; a single example, perhaps, by which each man finds himself 
more convinced than by all others put together. I seem, for my own part, 
to see the benevolence of the Deity more clearly in the pleasures of very 
young children, than in any thing in the world. The pleasures of grown 
persons may be reckoned partly of their own procuring ; especially if there 
has been any industry or contrivance or pursuit to come at them ; or if they 
are founded, like music, painting, etc., upon any qualification of their own 
acquiring. But the pleasures of a healthy infant are so manifestly pro- 
vided for it by another, and the benevolence of the provision is so unques- 
tionable, that every child I see at its sport, affords to my mind a kind of 
sensible evidence of the finger of God, and of the disposition which di- 
rects it." 



THE GOODNESS OF GOD. 351 

It is sweet to see, to hear, to eat, to breathe, to perform any of 
the ordinary functions of life, when the body is in its normal 
state. There is just enough of uneasiness, recurring at inter- 
vals, to remind us of the work that must be done in order to 
keep the body in this healthy condition. Even the conscious- 
ness of living, of continued existence, under common circum- 
stances, is agreeable ; for those who are most apt to complain 
of the burden of existence would resent the proposal, if you 
should offer immediately to rid them of it. It is finely observed 
by Abraham Tucker, that our " pleasures spring from steady, 
permanent causes, as the vigor of health, the due returns of ap- 
petite, and calls of nature to exercise or rest ; but pains proceed 
from accidents which happen rarely, or diseases which are 
either slight or temporary." " Even our troubles come attended 
with their alleviations ; we have remedies and assistance in 
diseases, comfort in distresses, and hope lies ready as a salve for 
every sore ; nor are there any in so forlorn a condition, but may 
find something to thank God for, if they will look about to seek 
it. Epicurus, though disposed to find all the faults he could in 
the system of nature, yet made it one among his collection of 
Maxims, ' That pain, if grievous, was short ; if long, it was 
light."' 

Happiness is so far the normal condition of existence, that 
we are hardly conscious of the extent and the perpetual suc- 
cession of our enjoyments, till something occurs to interrupt 
them. Thus, we mourn the loss of friends, though their depart- 
ure ought to remind us of the length of years through which 
we have had the comfort of their society. Most of our sorrows 
are of a negative character ; they are not so much positive pains, 
as occasional privations of blessings to which we have been long 
accustomed. "The rays of happiness," a poet tells us, "like 
those of light, are colorless when unbroken." It is no paradox, 
then, to say, that pains, when not too frequent or too violent, 
contribute directly to increase our conscious enjoyments, which 
could not be perpetually renewed without them. An attack of 
illness, if not too severe, is generally more than compensated 
by the pleasure of returning health, that comes with a glow and 



352 THE GOODNESS OF GOD. 

freshness, of which one who has never been an invalid can have 
no conception. But these pains, because they are infrequent, 
stand out like landmarks in our remembrance, while the wide 
expanse of happiness which they diversify is unnoticed or for- 
gotten. Probably the happiest portion of our existence, is that 
winch leaves the least impression on the memory; and the 
happiest man, is he whose life affords the fewest incidents for 
the biographer. 

The adaptation of external nature to the mind of. man, its 
fitness to excite pleasurable emotion, is another proof of the 
beneficence of the Creator. The beauty of the vegetable crea- 
tion, Irom the tiniest flower up to the moss-grown oak, its almost 
endless variety of form and hue, the delicacy and high finish 
of its minutest parts, with the luxuriance and grandeur of its 
aggregated masses, are enough to stir the most sluggish soul to 
admiration and gratitude. The useful functions of plants in the 
economy of nature, — then effects, for instance, in purifying the 
air and elaborating food for the animal kingdom, — might all be 
performed without this richness of embellishment. Their beauty 
is something superadded, for no conceivable purpose but that of 
imparting pleasure. And the ear is gratified as well as the eye. 
All natural sounds, — the song of birds, the hum of insects, the 
breaking of waves on the shore, the murmuring of the wind 
amid the branches of a forest, even the sullen plunge of the 
cataract, and " the bass of heaven's great organ," — are har- 
monious; the operations of man alone jar the delicate sense, 

" Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps." 

"The necessary purposes of hearing," as Paley observes, 
" might have been answered without harmony ; of smell, with- 
out fragrance ; of vision, without beauty. The properties given 
to the necessaries of life themselves, by which they contribute 
to pleasure as well as preservation, show a further design than 
that of giving existence." It is so with the chief articles of 
food, eating being certainly necessary for the continuance of 
animal life ; but " why add pleasure to the act of eating, — 
sweetness and relish to food ? why a new and appropriate sense 



THE GOODNESS OF GOD. 353 

for the perception of the pleasure ? That this pleasure depends, 
not only upon our being in possession of the sense of taste, 
which is different from every other, but upon a particular state 
of the organ in which it resides, a felicitous adaptation of the 
organ to the object, will be confessed by any one who may hap- 
pen to have experienced that vitiation of taste which frequently 
occurs in fevers, when every taste is irregular, and every one 
bad." And if this pleasure forms but a small and rather ignoble 
item among the enjoyments of man, let it be remembered that 
it is spread over a large portion of the existence of brutes, 
especially of the ruminating animals. 

The pleasures of taste intended solely to promote happiness. — 
It matters not at all, for the purposes of this argument, whether 
the beauty of forms, colors, sounds, and the like, is something 
intrinsic, inherent in the nature of the things themselves, or is 
superadded by our modes of perception ; — whether, to speak 
technically, the beauty be objective or subjective. It is indiffer- 
ent whether we say, that objects are so constituted as to impart 
pleasure to the mind, or that the mind is so constituted as to re- 
ceive pleasure from them, when our only object is to prove, that 
the pleasure itself is actual and abundant. In truth, I can see 
no reason why the emotions of beauty and sublimity were added 
to our mental faculties, except the mere purpose of enlarging 
the sphere of our enjoyments. They do not conduce to the 
preservation of life, they are not needed to keep up society, or 
to influence our conduct. They often stimulate to action, it is 
true ; for when we have once experienced the pleasure that they 
afford, we desire its repetition, and seek the objects which 
occasion them. But this is only their secondary effect ; and it 
is neither certain nor necessary, the stimulus to activity which 
is otherwise provided being stronger and quite sufficient. They 
are copious sources of delight, which is often vivid and intense, 
and is shared in a greater or less degree by all ; this is the only 
important part which they play in the economy of our being, 
and is the obvious purpose for which they were created. 

TJiese pleasures adapted to all ages and conditions. — Ac- 
knowledged differences of taste form no argument against the 

30* 



354 THE GOODNESS OP GOD. 

reality and abundance of the pleasure which every person re- 
ceives from this endowment of his nature, however mistaken 
his notions may be as to the beauty or sublimity of particular 
objects. A child's delight in a daub of bright colors, or an 
unmeaning jingle of sounds, is as real and hearty as the con- 
noisseur's appreciation of the merits of a Raphael or a Mozart. 
Indeed, I count the flexibility of these emotions, the numberless 
occasions on which they rise, their adaptation to all ages and 
conditions of life, and the rapid changes which cultivation effects 
in them, among the perfections of their contrivance, when re- 
garded as a means of enlarging human happiness. We have 
thus a greater range and variety in our pleasures, every stage 
in our existence and education having its own peculiar stock of 
them, every day contributing some new occasion on which they 
are felt, and the effect of familiarity and repetition in dulling the 
sense of enjoyment being thus completely obviated. We see 
here a reason for that infinite variety in the details of the 
material universe, amidst which, as I remarked on a former 
occasion, we trace the threads of uniformity and the prevalence 
of law. In the glorious mass of foliage which crowns an oak, 
it was then observed, there are no two leaves which perfectly 
resemble each other ; and I may now add, that there is not one 
of them which is not graceful. Objects are seen under differ- 
ent and very dissimilar aspects, and under all, contribute largely, 
if not equally, to the pleasure of the beholder. No two sun- 
sets are exactly alike, nor is there one mass of white cloud on 
the blue sky which is the very pattern of another. The changes 
of the seasons are continually altering the appearance of the 
landscape ; every month in the year it images a new feeling, but 
never lapses into ugliness. 

Variety and wide diffusion of these pleasures. — I have 
dwelt thus long upon the pleasures of taste, because the capac- 
ity for them, more than any other part of our constitution, seems 
to have been created for the sole, purpose of increasing the store 
of human happiness. Let it not be thought, on account of their 
gentle and unobtrusive character, and the trifling value which 
we put upon them in moments of excitement, or when we think 



THE GOODNESS OP GOD. 355 

that greater interests are at stake, that they form an insignifi- 
cant addition to that store. They are diffused, so to speak, over 
the whole plain of human existence, making up, by their variety, 
their duration, and their constant recurrence, for their lack of 
intensity, and the slightness of their hold when the stronger pas- 
sions assert their power. The pleasures of ambition, pomp, 
and power visit us only in lightning flashes, as brief as they are 
vivid ; they are often purchased, also, at a heavy sacrifice ; they 
are crossed by the pains of failure and disappointment ; and even 
the happiness which they are thought to constitute, is more 
properly ascribed to the toil and effort which we expend in their 
pursuit. But the enjoyments procured by the faculty of taste 
are unmingled with losses and sacrifices, and, for the most part, 
are unbought. They come to cheer the intervals of exertion, 
and to speed the long hours which are not filled with grave 
cares or enterprises of great pith and moment. They form the 
relaxation alike of the monarch on his throne and of the peas- 
ant in his hut ; the social instinct prompts each to seek com- 
panionship, and the conversation which turns not upon business 
or causes of anxiety, is prolonged merely for pleasure into an 
idle chat. A company of laborers, talking around the fire after 
the day's work is ended, experience this delight quite as strongly 
as the crowd which fills the apartments of the fashionable and 
the learned. " It is a happy world after all." In spite of all 
the labors, cares, and troubles of life, we still spend a con- 
siderable portion of our time merely in amusing ourselves. 

The capacity of happiness adapted to all beings and all con- 
ditions of life. — The wide diffusion of these simple pleasures 
suggests another arrangement in nature, which affords still 
stronger proof of the benevolence of the Deity ; — I mean the 
adaptation of the capacity of happiness to all orders of being 
and to all conditions of life. Considered in reference to its 
sources and occasions, happiness is not an absolute, but a rela- 
tive term. When we say, that any creature is as happy as it is 
capable of being, we express it's perfect enjoyment ; the low- 
ness of the capacity does not lessen this perfection. The causes 
and nature of the enjoyment may make it very unsuitable for a 



356 THE GOODNESS OF OOD. 

being of a different order, or for one of the same order, but of 
different pursuits and tastes. Still, it is real and perfect, and in 
this argument, therefore, is entitled to just as much weight as 
pleasure of a higher character. But we are all prone to erect 
our own ideas upon this subject into an absolute standard, and 
to pity all who do not come up to our peculiar notions of happi- 
ness; we do not always remember, that, very likely, the ob- 
jects of our compassion are, at the same moment, pitying us. 
This propensity leads us greatly to overrate the amount of 
misery that there is in the world, when, if we would but reflect 
upon it, the propensity itself is an additional indication of the 
goodness of God ; each individual supposes that his own happi- 
ness is the highest possible happiness, and his enjoyment is 
naturally enhanced by this belief. Ideas of what constitute 
pleasure and pain vary more widely than we are apt to imagine, 
especially if we include the lower animals in the survey. To 
take the strongest instance that I can think of; — the sight of 
a wild beast eagerly tearing and devouring the prey that it has 
just seized, makes us shudder ; yet the animal is then experienc- 
ing the keenest enjoyment that it is capable of, and if, as is 
generally the case, the prey is instantly killed by its captor, so 
that there is little or no suffering on either side, the spectacle, 
apart from its effect on our involuntary sympathies, ought rather 
to make us rejoice. We look upon the condition of a tribe 
of savages with similar feelings, and, so far as mere happi- 
ness is concerned, we almost equally misjudge the case. Pity 
them, if you will, for not being able to appreciate your refined 
and elevated pleasures, but for nothing else, since they are not 
only unconscious of suffering, but, for most of the time, they 
are enjoying themselves. We are shocked by the ignorance of 
great multitudes of men, and the feeling is a proper one in 
regard to their future, as the want of instruction frequently 
leads to crime ; but in connection with our present topic, we 
ought to remember that ignorance is often bliss. Information 
/v -/ on many points would only breed discontent. 

Tucker on the distribution of happiness. — These considera- 
tions seem to me to have so much weight, that I cannot regard 



THE GOODNESS OF GOD. 357 

Abraham Tucker's animated picture of the distribution of hap- 
piness as at all exaggerated. " We should cease," he says, " to 
measure others' satisfaction by our own standard, and to think 
nothing desirable to them which we would not choose for our- 
selves ; we shall then discern a variety of tastes adapted to the 
several conditions wherein men are placed, and things which 
are irksome at first, becoming pleasant by custom. We may see 
that children have their plays ; the vulgar their amusements, 
coarse jokes, and May-games ; even folly does not exclude 
pleasure, nor poverty banish contentment. There is as much 
mirth in the kitchen as the parlor, and as great diversion in a 
country fair or a cricket-match, as at a card assembly or a 
ridotto. The cobbler whistles at his stall; the dairy-maid 
sings while she is milking ; the ploughman munches his mouldy 
crusts with as good a relish as the rich man eats his dainties 
with, for he has that best of sauces, hunger, to season his 
victuals. Labor purifies the blood, invigorates the limbs, 
strengthens the digestion, insures quiet sleep, and renders the 
body proof against changes and inclemencies of weather; all 
which are considerable articles in the enjoyment of life, nor can 
their loss be compensated by any enjoyment of family, fortune, 
learning, and politeness. Nor is the lowest herdsman incapable 
of that sincerest of pleasures, the consciousness of acting right ; 
for rectitude does not consist in extensiveness of knowledge, but 
in doing the best according to the lights afforded ; and many 
artisans, servants, and laborers, find as much satisfaction in ful- 
filling the duties of their station, as the philosopher in his re- 
searches into nature. Nor need we stop at the human species ; 
for the brute creation, too, exhibits scenes agreeable for the 
good-natured man to look upon ; he may rejoice to see the cat- 
tle sporting in the fields, to hear the birds singing and chirping 
out their joys, to behold the swallow building nests to hatch her 
young, the ant laying in stores of provision for her future ac- 
commodation, the flies, in a summer evening, dancing together 
in wanton mazes, the little pucerons in water frisking nimbly 
about, as if delighted with their existence. Whoever has a 
heart to enjoy such contemplations, will be apt to pursue them 



358 THE GOODNESS OF GOD. 

until lie has satisfied himself, that there is a much greater quan- 
tity of enjoyment than suffering upon earth." 

Why there is no absolute standard of happiness. — Suppose 
that the belief which every individual is prone to entertain on 
this subject, were well founded ; suppose that there were an 
absolute standard of happiness, as there is of virtue. Is it not 
obvious, in the first case, that all the lower orders of being, dif- 
fering fundamentally in their endowments and constitutions 
from man, would be as incapable of enjoyment as they now are 
of rectitude ? Deprived of all access to refined and elevated 
pleasures by the coarseness of their organization, and the ruder 
delights of eating and mere bodily activity being struck out 
of the scale, what would remain to them but the life (if we 
may call it by that name) of a machine, or, in other words, 
mere senselessness and the incapacity either of joy or woe ? 
Again, unless all the differences of character and variety of tal- 
ents and occupations, which now distinguish men from each 
other, were done away, the establishment in their minds of but 
one standard of happiness would deprive all but an insignificant 
fraction of their number of any experience of pleasure. If this 
standard were accommodated to man's character, the child 
could not rise to it; if it were suited only to the cultivated 
mind, the savage would have no compensation for the evils of 
his lot ; if it had regard to difference of sex, one half of the 
human family would be joyless. If it were made known to all, 
in the absoluteness of its conditions, just as the standard of rec- 
titude is, even the few could have but partial enjoyment ; for 
perfection in happiness would be as unattainable as perfection 
in morals. There must be such a standard, for absolute happi- 
ness alone can express the condition of an omnipotent and om- 
niscient Being ; but in his mercy, it is not revealed to man in 
this stage of existence, nor to any of the creatures which He 
has made. Yet such a revelation would be consistent with mere 
justice ; for the pleasures of virtue alone would satisfy all the 
requisitions of the moral sense. Men might be made happy 
only in proportion as they were good. Now, indeed, their 
pleasures are enhanced by the consciousness of rectitude ; but 



THE GOODNESS OF GOD. 359 

they are not wholly destroyed by the recollection of sin. God 
sendeth his rain alike on the just and the unjust, his govern- 
ment being one not merely of absolute rectitude, but of perfect 
love. 

The hind affections prove the benevolence of God. — I shall al- 
lude to but one other proof of the benevolence of God, and 
that is, the endowment of the mind with benevolent affections, 
care being thus shown for the happiness of all, by rendering 
men the guardians and partakers of the happiness of each 
other. We are not left in this respect to the monitions of 
conscience alone, though the general obligation to relieve the 
distressed and to do good to all is recognized, and even strongly 
inculcated, by that faculty. But the social and kind affections 
also, which stand foremost among our primary impulses, and 
which are prompt to act before reason can come into play or 
the voice of conscience be heard, are so many ever-watchful 
sentinels to increase the joys and lessen the sorrows of our 
mortal lot. So quick and powerful is their operation, that the 
action which proceeds from them seems involuntary. The sight 
of distress prompts an instant attempt to relieve it, no matter 
who may be the sufferer. Imminent peril hanging over the 
head of another, causes a shuddering in all our limbs, as if our 
own lives were menaced ; and often the sharp cry of warning 
is uttered, before reason can teach us that the distance is too 
great for the voice to be heard. We rejoice in the happiness 
of others, though the difference of taste, situation, or character 
makes their standard of enjoyment the farthest possible from 
our own. The aged are always the most ready to encourage 
the sports of childhood, to join in the sfiout that follows their 
success, and to please the infant with a rattle or a straw. The 
affections of kindred are indestructible while life and sense 
remain ; they often overbear all regard for our own comfort, 
and a painful death becomes a pleasant one, if suffered for their 
sake. Disinterestedness is so prominent a trait in them, that 
even the suggestion of their being alloyed by the hope of com- 
pensation is resented as an affront. They often rise to enthusi- 
asm, so as to need the curb of reflection and a sense of duty to 



360 THE GOODNESS OF GOD. 

keep them from a harmful excess. So exquisite is the pleasure 
of their indulgence, and so easily are they brought into play, 
that, when real occasions to call them forth are wanting, we seek 
fictitious ones, and grieve over the sorrows, or sympathize in the 
joys, of imaginary beings. What direct interest has the spec- 
tator at the theatre, or the reader of a romance, in the char- 
acters represented, his sympathy with whom is attested by his 
emotion and his tears ? 

" What 's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, 
That he should weep for her 1 " 

We can explain this effect, only by admitting, that our affec- 
tions and sympathies are more speedy and overpowering than 
the action of the intellect, which would teach us, if it had time 
or could gain an audience, that we were weeping over shadows 
and airy fancies. 

Distribution of the affections. — Consider, now, the human 
mind, figuratively, with its complex and delicate network of 
faculties and springs of action, as a machine or a contrivance, 
the problem being, how to constitute it so as to take the greatest 
possible security for the happiness of the race. What more 
effectual means could be devised for this end, than to endow 
men first with the social or gregarious instinct, which keeps 
them always near to each other, and then to knit their hearts 
together with so many of these kindly affections, that not a 
chord of joy or sorrow can be touched in one, without finding 
an instant response in many others ? Observe, too, how these 
affections are distributed in regard to their objects, the strongest 
always uniting those who live nearest and most familiarly with 
each other, and who consequently stand most in need of mutual 
aid, the assistance that is most readily offered being thus also 
always the nearest at hand ; while the other feelings weaken, 
indeed, as they expand, but continually take in a larger number, 
till that of general benevolence includes the whole human race. 
The love, for instance, which surpasses all others, is that of a 
mother for her child, these two being for months and years in- 
separable, and the latter being wholly dependent on another's 
care. 



THE GOODNESS OF GOD. 361 

Indeed, the bodily constitution of the human infant, when 
compared with that of the young of other animals, shows that it 
is trusted for protection and support almost exclusively to ma- 
ternal affection ; and the trust is not in vain. "One animal," 
says Mr. Stewart, " is armed with the horn, another with the 
tusk, a third with the paw; most of them are covered with furs, 
or with skins of a sufficient thickness to protect them from the 
inclemencies of the seasons ; and all of them are directed by 
instinct in what manner they may choose or construct the most 
convenient habitation for securing themselves from danger, and 
for rearing their offspring. The human infant alone enters the 
world naked and unarmed ; exposed without a covering to the 
fury of the elements ; surrounded with enemies who far surpass 
him in strength or agility ; and totally ignorant in what way 
he is to procure the comforts or even the necessaries of life." 
A being formed for tears, says Pliny, but soon to exercise do- 
minion over all the other creatures that God has made ; — 
Flens animal, cceteris imperaturum. 

That it is the living constantly together, and not some hidden 
virtue in mere kindred blood, which forms the groundwork of 
the family affections, seems to me to be proved by the fact, that 
long separation greatly weakens these natural ties, while the 
factitious unions of marriage and friendship put others in their 
place which are equally effective. Wherever we are placed, 
then, however far our journey ings may be, these kindly feelings 
spring up around us in a natural growth, the Divinely appointed 
guardians of our happiness ; a removal separates us from one 
class of them, but the loss is soon repaired by others. It is 
hardly possible for man to occupy a position so isolated, that he 
shall not be joined by one or more of these peculiar bonds to a 
portion of his fellows, to whom he may look for especial sym- 
pathy, consolation, and aid. Even if all others should drop 
away, the last and most comprehensive of all, which must 
remain, the tie of a common origin and a common nature, that 
makes a brotherhood of all mankind, is one of no mean force. 
When a fit occasion arises, its strength is manifested. If, for 
instance, the cry of famine or pestilence is heard, though it 

31 



362 THE GOODNESS OF GOD. 

comes from the uttermost isles of the sea, from a people with 
whom we have no relationship or common interest, the sympa- 
thies of all are excited, and the means of relief, if possible, are 
sent. The same feeling, trained into a custom and guarded by 
religious sanctions, protects the wandering stranger among the 
robber tribes of the desert ; the head even of the fugitive from 
justice is sacred, when he has once tasted of the salt at the 
chieftain's board. The rights of hospitality are more or less 
respected all over the globe, merely from a recognition of the 
common humanity of the host and the guest. 

The kind affections support each other. — Observe, also, how 
these feelings intertwine and support each other. Compassion 
is met by gratitude, the latter often rising into heroism, and the 
charge of a want of it, next to the accusation of falsehood, 
being the bitterest reproach that can be uttered. An inter- 
change of kind offices strengthens the benevolent purposes of 
either party. Maternal love is repaid by filial affection, friend- 
ship by its like, and every kindly emotion has its counterpart 
and reward in the mind of him who is its object. It is justly 
observed by Mr. Stewart, that " the peculiar sentiment of appro- 
bation with which we regard the virtue of beneficence in others, 
and the peculiar satisfaction with which we reflect on such of 
our actions as have contributed to the happiness of mankind, to 
which we may add the exquisite pleasure accompanying the 
exercise of all the kind affections, naturally lead us to consider 
benevolence or goodness as the supreme attribute of God. It 
is difficult, indeed, to conceive what other motive could have 
induced a Being, completely and independently happy, to call 
his creatures into existence." Indeed, the experience of our 
own day has shown, that general philanthropy can become a 
profession and a fascinating pursuit. There is so much luxury 
in the indulgence of feelings which point to the general im- 
provement and moral elevation of the race, that they have 
sometimes thrown off the yoke of reason and justice, to which 
they are rightfully subject. We respect or reverence men for 
the sterner virtues which they exhibit, but we love them for 
their benevolence, although the objects of their kindness are 



THE GOODNESS OF GOD. 363 

persons for whom we entertain no peculiar esteem. The mem- 
ory of John Howard, for instance, is as sacred to us as if we 
had personally known, esteemed, and loved every one of the 
wretched beings to the improvement of whose lot his life was 
devoted. Considering, then, how much our daily comforts and 
enjoyments depend upon our fellow beings, especially upon 
those with whom we constantly associate, it may well be doubted, 
whether any other arrangement of Providence to secure our 
happiness is so effectual, as that which animates us all with the 
spirit of active love and kindness towards each other. 

Even the selfishness of men contributes to the general wel- 
fare. — Still further ; as men are dependent upon their fellow 
beings not merely for sympathy and additional means of enjoy- 
ment, but for necessaries — for the active cooperation without 
which life could not be supported — not only are mutual kindly 
affections implanted in them, but their interests are so inter- 
woven, that even the cupidity and selfishness of individuals are 
made to conduce to the general good. What may be called the 
economical laws of human nature, (the principles of Political 
Economy,) in their general effects upon the well-being of society, 
manifest the contrivance, wisdom, and beneficence of the Deity 
just as clearly, as do the marvellous arrangements of the mate- 
rial universe, or the natural means provided for the enforcement 
of the moral law and the punishment of crime. The lowest 
passions of mankind, ostentation and ambition, petty rivalry, the 
love of saving and the love of gain, while they bring their own 
penalty upon the individual who indulges them, are still over- 
ruled for good in their operation upon the interests of society ; 
— •nay, they are made the most efficient means of guarding it 
from harm and advancing its welfare. In the vast round of 
employments in civilized society, there is hardly one in which a 
person can profitably exert himself, without at the same time 
profiting the community in which he lives, and lending aid to 
thousands of human beings whom he never saw. We are all 
servants of one another without wishing it, and even without 
knowing it ; we are all cooperating with each other as busily 
and effectively as the bees in a hive, and most of us with as 



364 -' THE GOODNESS OP GOD. 

little perception as the bees have, that each individual effort is 
essential to the common defence and general prosperity. " This 
dependence and combination," says McCulloch, " is not found 
only or principally in the mechanical employments ; it extends 
to the labors of the head as well as those of the hands, and per- 
vades and binds together all classes and degrees of society." 

" The great Author of nature," says Barrow, (second sermon 
on Industry,) " hath so distributed the ranks and offices of men, 
in order to mutual benefit and comfort, that one man should 
plough, another thrash, another grind, another labor at the forge, 
another knit or weave, another sail, another trade, another su- 
pervise all these, laboring to keep them all in order and peace ; 
that one should work with his hands and feet, another with his 
head and tongue ; all conspiring to one common end, the wel- 
fare of the whole, and the supply of what is useful to each par- 
ticular member ; every man so reciprocally obliging and being 
obliged, the prince being obliged to the husbandman for his 
bread, to the weaver for his clothes, to the mason for his palace, 
to the smith for his sword ; those being all obliged to him for 
his vigilant care in protecting them, for their security in pursu- 
ing the work, and enjoying the fruit of their industry.* " 



=* For a more specific illustration of this truth, I borrow a passage from 
Adam Smith. 

" The interests of the inland dealer [in corn,] and that of the great body 
of the people, how opposite soever they may at first sight appear, are, 
even in years of the greatest scarcity, exactly the same. It is his interest 
to raise the price of his corn as high as the real scarcity of the season re- 
quires, and it can never be his interest to raise it higher. By raising the 
price, he discourages the consumption, and puts everybody, more or less, 
but particularly the inferior ranks of people, upon thrift and good man- 
agement. If, by raising it too high, he discourages the consumption so 
much that the supply of the season is likely to go beyond the consumption 
of the season, and to last for some time after the next crop begins to come 
in, he runs the hazard, not only of losing a considerable part of his corn by 
natural causes, but of being obliged to sell what remains of it for much 
less than what he might have had for it several months before. If, by not 
raising the price high enough, he discourages the consumption so little, 
that the supply of the season is likely to fall short of the consumption of 



THE GOODNESS OF GOD. 365 

Broad conclusions from this argument. — It is unnecessary 
to carry these illustrations any further, though any exposition 
of this broad theme, the benevolence of God as displayed in 
the material and moral universe, must necessarily seem imper- 
fect. It is important to mark the breadth of the conclusion at 
which we have now arrived. It is proved, not only that good 
predominates to a vast extent, but that, secondary only to the 
support and enforcement of the law of right, the production of 
happiness is the chief purpose in the creation and government 
of the world. Strike out the pains which were intended to vin- 
dicate the law of primary obligation, and to show that virtue was 
of more importance than mere enjoyment, and happiness is seen 
to be the normal condition of mankind, — happiness which was 
contrived, and which is the sole object of the contrivance, — 
happiness which fills up so large a portion of the hours of ex- 
istence, that hardship and suffering are restricted in compari- 
son to minutes. Evil exists, undoubtedly ; but it is the excep- 
tion, and not the rule. It is never designed for its own sake ; 
it is nowhere the ultimate object of the contrivance. 

No difficulty appears till the idea of infinity is brought in. — 
There is, then, sufficient, even abundant, proof of the benevo- 
lence of the Creator. And this benevolence is not scanty or 



the season, he not only loses a part of the profit which he might otherwise 
have made, but he exposes the people to suffer before the end of the sea- 
son, instead of the hardships of a dearth, the dreadful horrors of a famine. 
It is the interest of the people that their daily, weekly, and monthly con- 
sumption should be proportioned as exactly as possible to the supply of 
the season. The interest of the inland corn dealer is the same. By sup- 
plying them, as nearly as he can judge, in this proportion, he is likely to 
sell all his corn for the highest price, and with the greatest profit ; and his 
knowledge of the state of the crop, and of his daily, weekly, and monthly 
sales, enables him to judge, with more or less accuracy, how far they really 
are supplied in this manner. Without intending the interest of the people, 
he is necessarily led, by a regard to his own interest, to treat them, even 
in years of scarcity, pretty much in the same manner as the prudent mas- 
ter of a vessel is sometimes obliged to treat his crew. When he foresees 
that provisions are likely to run short, he puts them upon short allowance." 
— Smith's Wealth of Nations, p. 233. 

31* 



366 THE GOODNESS OF GOD. 

parsimonious in its character ; its arrangements are vast, impos- 
ing, commensurate with the scale on which the universe is 
made. The whole difficulty which is presented to us, in the 
problem respecting the origin and continuance of evil, relates to 
the infinity of Divine benevolence. That there is some evil in 
the world, is an apparent indication that the deity is not infi- 
nitely benevolent ; but it is no indication whatever that he is 
not benevolent at all. It affords no presumption even against 
the doctrine that he is largely benevolent, — bountiful and gra- 
cious to man, far beyond the measure of his absolute wants or 
rightful claims. This conclusion, therefore, — that God wishes 
the happiness, not the misery, of his creatures, and has made 
rich provision to this end, — remains to us unshaken, whatever 
may be our success in the subsequent part of the inquiry. 

I insist strongly upon this point, because the nature of the 
difficulty occasioned by the presence of any evil in the world 
has been greatly misunderstood. Nearly all writers upon the 
subject have argued the matter, as if the existence of sin and 
suffering in any degree, however small, or however overbal- 
anced by virtue and happiness, afforded a presumption that the 
Deity was not benevolent at all, — nay, that he was malevolent, 
that he intended the misery of his creatures. But not so. It 
is one thing to prove that God is wise, powerful, and good ; and 
another and quite a different thing, to prove that he is infinitely 
wise, infinitely powerful, and infinitely good. The difference 
between these two lines of proof has sometimes (and very prop- 
erly) been made a topic for discussion by itself; the infinity of 
the Divine attributes is to be made out by reasoning somewhat 
different from that which establishes the reality of the attributes 
themselves. Infinity is a metaphysical idea ; our notion of it 
is confessedly inadequate. We have but a negative idea of it ; 
it implies that certain qualities exist in an unknown perfection. 
To prove that the attributes are infinite, then, may be desirable 
for philosophical purposes, for the completeness of theory, and 
for rounding out with entireness a system of theology ; but it is 
not essential either for religious faith or practice. For these 
latter purposes, it is enough to show that the qualities exist 



THE GOODNESS OF GOD. 367 

unlimited by the attributes of any other known being or thing, 
and in a degree which challenges our wonder and adoration. 
This has been already done, and religious faith, properly so 
called, is sufficiently vindicated. It is proved that God exists, 
and that he governs the world in righteousness and with mercy, 
at once upholding the law which he has revealed through the 
conscience, and showing by manifold provisions his care for the 
happiness of his creatures. 

Our idea of infinity necessarily inadequate. — It is observ- 
able, in the next place, that there are difficulties in the very 
conception of infinite goodness united with infinite power, which 
ought to warn us that the imperfection, after all, is more apt to 
be in our limited modes of thought, than in the constituted 
nature of things. I borrow on this point the very clear and 
precise statement of Abraham Tucker. 

" God," he observes, " is completely happy in himself, nor can 
his happiness receive increase or diminution from any thing 
befalling his creatures ; wherefore his goodness is pure, disin- 
terested bounty, without any return of joy or satisfaction to 
himself. Therefore it is no wonder we have imperfect notions 
of a quality whereof we have no experience in our own nature ; 
for we know of no other love than inclination^ which prompts us 
to gratify it in the same manner as our other inclinations. In 
the next place, let us examine our idea of infinite goodness 
taken in the abstract, before we inquire whether God be good 
or no, — and we shall find it incompatible with that of infinite 
power ; for infinite goodness, according to our apprehension, re- 
quires that it should exhaust omnipotence, that it should give 
capacities of enjoyment, and confer blessings, until there were no 
more to be conferred; but our idea of omnipotence requires 
that it should be inexhaustible, that nothing should limit its 
operations so that it could do no more than it has done. There- 
fore it is much easier to conceive of an imperfect creature com- 
pletely good, than of a perfect being ; for if he pursues invari- 
ably all opportunities of doing good to the utmost of his power 
and knowledge, he deserves that character ; and if there are any 
injuries sustained which he cannot redress, any distress unre- 



368 THE GOODNESS OF GOD. 

lieved which he knows not of, his weakness and ignorance are a 
full excuse for his omission. But where there is almighty 
power, unlimited knowledge, and perfect wisdom, we can neither 
conceive that infinite goodness should extend to the utmost 
bounds of that which has no bounds, nor yet that it should stop 
until it can proceed no further. Since, then, we find our under- 
standing incapable of comprehending infinite goodness joined 
with infinite power, we need not be surprised at finding our 
thoughts perplexed concerning them ; for no other can be ex- 
pected in matters above our reach ; and we may presume the 
obscurity rises from something wrong in our ideas, not from 
any inconsistencies in the subjects themselves." In short, here 
as elsewhere, whenever we apply a purely metaphysical idea to 
matters-of-fact, we end in a contradiction or an absurdity. 

The proof of the Divine benevolence is complete in itself. — 
You will not understand me, by these remarks, as holding forth 
the opinion, that the problem respecting the origin of evil is 
insoluble, or as evading the difficulty of solving it. On the 
contrary, I believe, and I shall attempt to show, that all events 
are ordered for the best, and that the supposed evils which we 
suffer are parts of a great system conducted by almighty power _, 
under the direction of unlimited wisdom and goodness. I adopt 
the opinion, maintained in all ages by the best and wisest philoso- 
phers, that the creation of beings endowed with freewill, and 
consequently liable to moral delinquency, and the government 
of the world by general laws, from which occasional supposed 
evils must result, furnish no solid objection to the perfection of 
the universe. This, I admit, is a system of optimism ; but it is 
not the optimism of. Leibnitz, grounded upon a denial of man's 
free agency, and as such justly ridiculed by Voltaire. And the 
general doctrine of the benevolence of God, is in nowise ac- 
countable for, or dependent upon, the sufficiency of the argument 
in defence of this metaphysical system. That doctrine rests 
upon its own proofs, which are abundant, undisputed, and irre- 
fragable. This question respecting the presence of any evil in 
the world, is a collateral affair, which must be considered, in- 
deed, before we can complete a scheme of theology, and about 



THE ORIGIN OF EVIL. 369 

which theologians and metaphysicians may differ. But the re- 
ligious man has no concern with it, and his faith, whether derived 
from the teachings of nature, or from express revelation, is not 
burdened with its doubts and intricacies. It is enough for him, 
that he can trace everywhere the footprints of a wise, just, and 
benevolent Ruler of the universe. 



CHAPTER VII 



THE ORIGIN OF EVIL. 



Summary of the last chapter. — The argument in the last 
chapter for the benevolence of God, was not founded upon 
metaphysical reasoning, or upon any consideration a priori of 
the Divine nature, but upon observation and the results of ex- 
perience. It is because human life, on the whole, is a happy 
one, because its pleasures far exceed its pains, and because 
these pleasures were evidently designed, while the pains are 
only incidental or secondary to some great object, that we are 
enabled to pronounce with confidence, that the Deity wishes the 
happiness of his creatures. The sufferings which are the im- 
mediate consequence and punishment of vice, it was remarked, 
are properly left out of the account, since these evince the 
goodness of God no less than the happiness resulting from vir- 
tue, the object in both cases being to advance man's highest 
interests by the improvement of his moral character ; just so the 
affectionate parent rewards the obedience and punishes the 
faults of his child, love equally constraining him to adopt either 
course. Now, these sufferings constitute so large a portion of 
the misery that is in the world, that, when they are deducted, 
the balance inclines altogether on the side of happiness. Our 
enjoyments, also, proceed from steady and permanent causes ; 



370 THE ORIGIN OF EVIL. 

the performance of all the ordinary functions of life, when the 
body is in its normal state, being a source of pleasure. Sick- 
ness is an accident and an exception ; health is the intended and 
usual condition. 

The pleasures of taste arise from an adaptation of external 
nature to the mind of man, which must have had for its sole 
purpose the increase of our happiness ; and these pleasures are 
so various, recur so frequently, and occupy so many hours of 
our existence, as to give a smiling aspect to the whole. Happi- 
ness, it was also observed, is accommodated to all beings and 
conditions; there is no absolute standard of it, which would 
necessarily limit its distribution. The pleasures- of the child, 
the savage, and the brute, are as real and hearty, as complete in 
their way, as those of the mature and cultivated mind. All 
have the means of enjoyment provided for them, suited to their 
peculiar sphere, adapted to their organizations and their tastes. 
Lastly, the endowment of the mind with the benevolent affec-, 
tions, is a most effectual security for our happiness, by making 
us all the guardians of the happiness of each other. It is not 
only the duty, but one of the primitive impulses, of man, acting 
spontaneously, and for the time irrationally, to aid, protect, and 
sympathize with his neighbor. These affections profit not only 
the objects of them, but him who cherishes them ; the luxury 
of their indulgence being so great, that when real occasions to 
call them forth are wanting, we seek fictitious ones, and spend 
them upon imaginary beings. 

The occasional presence of evil does not disprove the goodness 
of God. — These facts, I observed, show a vast predominance 
of happiness in our condition, and so, notwithstanding the oc- 
casional presence of evil, amply vindicate the benevolence of 
the Creator. What remains is a point of curiosity and theory, 
rather than of substantive importance, for the religious inquirer. 
Insist as we may upon the existence of sin and suffering in the 
world, these, in the amount in which they are visible to us, do 
not disprove, do not even cast a doubt upon, the goodness of 
God ; they affect only the doctrine of the infinity of his benev- 
olence, a subject with which we, his finite creatures, with our 






THE ORIGIN OF EVIL. 371 

limited intelligence, have little or no concern. It is probable 
it is even certain, that the whole difficulty consists, not in the 
nature of the facts themselves, but in the imperfect comprehen- 
sion of our minds, which cannot unite the conceptions of in- 
finite power and infinite goodness without stumbling upon a 
contradiction and an absurdity. After this explanation, we 
approach the deep and dark problem of the origin of evil with- 
out anxiety. 

Proper statement of tlw question. — The question in its sim- 
plest form is, How can there be any evil in the world, if it was 
created and is governed by an all-powerful and all-gracious 
God ? The difficulty disappears, and the problem is solved, if 
we can prove that the existence of any amount, however small, 
of sin and suffering, is compatible with a belief in the omnipo- 
tence and infinite benevolence of the Deity ; for, in the first 
place, it was shown in the last chapter, that the amount is ac- 
tually small, when compared with the happiness and virtue for 
which provision is made, and which are really experienced or 
exercised ; and, secondly, if any evil, however slight, can be 
satisfactorily accounted for, without bringing the infinite power 
and goodness of God into doubt, the question respecting the mag- 
nitude of this necessary evil can be determined by infinite wisdom 
alone. It is not competent for us to settle this question ; nor is 
it desirable, for the answer to it does not at all affect our belief 
in the moral attributes of the Supreme Being, and is obviously 
beyond the reach of the human faculties. We might as well 
assume to determine how many stars there ought to be in the 
sky, as to say how much or how little of any quality or thing 
ought to be permitted under God's government, when we have 
once clearly seen that its presence in some degree is essential. 
Only an Alphonso of Castile could be guilty of such folly. He 
alone who knows the whole, and governs the whole, of the uni- 
verse of which we form but an infinitesimal part, — our time in 
it being but a moment, and our space a dot, — can tell hoio 
much is essential, when we know that some is essential. Our 
ideas of quantity and magnitude are wholly relative ; however 
great the sum may appear to us, no one can affirm, that, in the 



372 THE ORIGIN OF EVIL. 

eye of Infinite Wisdom, it is not a minimum. Nay, after the 
proofs already advanced of the Divine benevolence, the pre- 
sumption is inevitable, that it is a minimum. 

Exaggerated statements of the amount of evil in the world. — 
I place stress upon this point, because, both by the friends and 
the opponents of religion, the problem respecting the origin of 
evil has been unnecessarily darkened and rendered formidable 
by declamatory and exaggerated statements of the amount of 
sin and woe which sadden the annals of mankind. Thus, Bayle, 
the most acute and sarcastic of modern infidels, after quoting 
Cicero's pathetic account of his voyage home from Asia, at one 
point in which he beheld around him the deserted ruins of so 
many cities, once renowned for their power and splendor, goes 
on to say, — " History is, properly speaking, only a record of 

the crimes and the misfortunes of the human race If 

man is the creation of a single being, who is supremely good, 
supremely holy, and supremely powerful, how can he be ex- 
posed to disease, to cold, to heat, to hunger, to thirst, to pain, to 
sorrow? How can he have so many wicked inclinations? 
How can he commit so many crimes ? Can infinite holiness 
create a wicked being ? Can infinite goodness create an un- 
happy being ? Will not sovereign power, joined with infinite 
benevolence, overwhelm its creature with benefits, and remove 
far from him all that can offend or sadden ? " 

The following picture, by Abraham Tucker, though well in- 
tended, is quite as exaggerated and unnecessary. " That there 
are innumerable evils," he says, " the phenomena of nature suf- 
ficiently assures us : storms and tempests, earthquakes and in- 
undations, lay fields, and cities desolate with all their produce 
and inhabitants ; blighting winds and pestilential vapors wither 
up and destroy, ravenous beasts devour, villains assassinate, 
thieves break through and steal, tyrants oppress, diseases tor- 
ment, cross accidents vex, old age debilitates, our necessary em- 
ployments fatigue, our wants interfere, our very pleasures cloy, 
and man is born to sorrow as the sparks fly upward. We are 
necessitated to destroy vermin that would overrun us, to slay 
our fellow-creatures for our sustenance, to weary them out with 



THE ORIGIN OF EVIL. 373 

toil and labor for our uses, to press one another into wars and 
sea-services for our preservation. Nay, evil is so interwoven 
into our nature, that the business of mankind would stagnate 
without it ; most of our cares being employed in delivering our- 
selves from troubles we he under, or warding off those that 
threaten." 

The fallacy of these sweeping statements exposed. — It is hardly 
necessary to say, that such statements as these are one-sided 
and exaggerated, and that the general impression which they 
leave on the mind is wholly unfounded. The great but covert 
fallacy in this general impression, is, that the whole human race 
is regarded but as one individual, whose existence extends 
through all ages and over all parts of the earth, so that his sin- 
gle experience comprises all the woes and crimes which are ac- 
tually distributed among countless millions of beings. Now it 
is the veriest truism to say, that happiness or misery is expe- 
rienced only by individuals ; that there is no such thing as the 
suffering of the race in general; that any one man would be 
considered as marked out for sorrow, as a special object of com- 
passion, who should be afflicted by any one of the great evils 
above mentioned ; that it is impossible, in the nature of things, 
for any one to suffer from all of them ; and that the occurrence 
even of one would occupy but a small portion of the experience 
of an individual, all the rest of which might be almost unmin- 
gled enjoyment. How many of those who read this page have 
been plagued by famines, inundations, earthquakes, the assas- 
sination of friends, robbery, ravenous beasts, tyranny, the neces- 
sity of slaying a fellow-creature for sustenance, or the like ? 
And if, which is very improbable, there, be an individual who 
has experienced one of these calamities, how small a portion of 
his whole existence has been immediately saddened by the event, 
and how many compensating hours has he had of amusement, 
indifference, or positive happiness ? How idle is it, then, to 
make out a catalogue of all the calamities and crimes of which 
there is any mention in history, and to speak of hitman life as 
vexed by them, thus conveying the impression, though it is not 
a logical inference, that it is the life of an individual which is 

32 



374 THE ORIGIN OF EVIL. 

thus spoken of! For when happiness or misery is the topic of 
discussion, if it be not an individual existence that is referred to, 
this enumeration, this adding of one woe to another, and one 
crime to another, is meaningless and impertinent. To take a 
particular instance, — it was a misfortune and a wrong that 
Socrates should drink the hemlock. But how many, with the 
same virtues and the same genius, have suffered the same fate 
as the Grecian sage ? and how great or how long was this suf- 
fering even for him, when compared with the many and bright 
hours of instruction and happiness which constituted the re- 
mainder of his individual experience ? If we were wise, we 
should thank God that Socrates lived and taught as he did, 
rather than grieve or murmur because he died a felon's death. 

The real problem stated as a dilemma. — • Putting aside, then, 
these rhetorical exaggerations of human wretchedness, we come 
to the real problem, — how to reconcile the presence of any 
pain or wrong, however slight, with the infinite power and good- 
ness of the Governor of all things. The whole difficulty here 
is well stated in the form of a dilemma by Lactantius, who pro- 
fesses to have taken it directly from Epicurus, into whose phi- 
losophy it entered as a proof of his doctrine, that the Deity ex- 
isted indeed, but that he exercised no oversight or government 
of the affairs of this world. " The Deity," he says, " is either 
willing to take away all evil, but is not able to do so, in which 
case he is not omnipotent ; or he is able to remove the evil, but 
is not willing, in which case, he is not benevolent ; or he is 
neither willing nor able, which is a denial of the Divine perfec- 
tions ; or he is both able and willing to do away with the evil, 
and yet it exists." Now it is obvious, in the first place, that 
this dilemma is made to cover too much ground ; for while in- 
ability to remove the evil is rightly held to disprove the infinite 
power of God, his unwillingness to remove it is held to prove, 
not that his benevolence is imperfect, which would be a just 
conclusion, but that he is not benevolent at all, or rather that he 
is malignant, the evil being intentional, and not incidental. 
The facts, certainly, support no such conclusion. We may sup- 
pose, if we will, that the Deity has a general intention to pro- 



THE ORIGIN OF EVIL. 375 

vide for the happiness of his creatures, and, in the long run, or 
as a general rule, has taken measures to secure it ; but that he 
is not watchful in every case, and has not provided for all 
emergencies, thinking it best, perhaps, that, on a few occasions, 
slight evils should be endured. Such is often the conduct of an 
earthly parent, who would never be accused of a want of love 
for his offspring. But this is not general enough to be consid- 
ered as a satisfactory solution of the problem, nor do I propose 
it as such. 

Metaphysical impossibilities do not disprove omnipotence. — 
We shall gain a clearer idea of the true purport of the question, 
by examining more closely the meaning of the words employed. 
Omnipotence and benevolence are apparently very simple and 
very comprehensive terms, though few are more vaguely used. 
The former means a power to do every thing ; but this does not 
include the ability to do two contradictory things at the same 
moment, or to accomplish any metaphysical impossibility. Thus, 
the Deity cannot cause two and two to make five, nor place 
two hills near each other without leaving a valley between them. 
The impossibility in such cases does not argue a defect of power, 
but an absurdity in the statement of the case to which the power 
is to be applied. A statement which involves a contradiction 
in terms does not express a limitation of ability, because, in truth, 
it expresses nothing at all ; the affirmation and the denial, ut- 
tered in the same breath, cancel each other, and no meaning 
remains. All metaphysical impossibilities can be reduced to 
the formula, that, it is impossible for the same thing to be and not 
to be at the same moment, as this would be an absurdity, — that 
is, an absurd or meaningless statement. Thus, virtue cannot 
exist without free agency, because a free choice between good 
and evil is involved in the idea of virtue, so that the proposition 
means no more than this, — that what contains freedom cannot 
be without freedom. Compulsion is a denial of freedom ; there- 
fore, the phrase compulsory virtue does not so much express an 
impossibility, as an absurdity ; it is nonsense. We cannot 
choose between good and evil, unless good and evil are both 
placed before us, — that is, unless we k*iow what these words 



376 THE ORIGIN OF EVIL. 

mean ; and we cannot express our choice in action, unless we 
are able to act, — that is, unless we have the power of doing either 
good or evil. In the dilemma quoted from Epicurus, a contra- 
diction in terms is held to prove a defect of power, or to dis- 
prove Omnipotence ; the dilemma, therefore, is a mere logical 
puzzle, like the celebrated one of Achilles and the tortoise. 
The only difficulty is, how to lay bare the fallacy, or expose the 
contradiction, since it is very skilfully covered up by the lan- 
guage employed. 

Outward acts do not disprove benevolent intentions. — The 
meaning of benevolence appears simple enough ; but it is often 
difficult to tell whether a certain act was or was not prompted 
by kind intentions. Strictly speaking, of course, benevolence is 
a quality of mind, — that is, of will (bene volo) or inten- 
tion, — not of outward conduct. An action is said to be benev- 
olent only by a metaphor ; it is so called, because we infer from 
it, with great positiveness, that the agent must have had benev- 
olent intentions. We think that the motives are indicated by 
the act ; but we may be mistaken. He who gives food to the 
hungry poor would be esteemed benevolent ; but he may do it 
with a view to poison them. To strike for the avowed purpose 
of causing pain, usually argues ill-will or a malignant design ; 
but the blow may come from the kindest heart in the world, for 
the express purpose of benefiting him who receives it. In the 
present argument, Epicurus assumes that the presence of evil, 
that is, the outward fact, is enough to prove a want of benevo- 
lence, or even a malignant design, on the part of him who might 
have prevented it. But if, by evil, is here meant mere pain or 
suffering, whether proceeding from bodily or mental causes, we 
may boldly deny the inference. If pleasure or mere enjoyment 
is not the greatest good, if sometimes it is even inconsistent with 
the possession of a higher blessing, then a denial of it may be 
a proof of goodness instead of malice. The problem respecting 
the existence of evil is really solved by the single proposition, 
that virtue, not happiness, is man's highest interest. Not only 
mere harm or suffering, but the liberty to do wrong, is essential 
for the existence of virtue. 



THE ORIGIN OF EVIL. 377 

The 'presence of evil does not impeach the perfections of God. 
— I cannot admit, then, on general grounds, that the presence 
either of moral or physical evil in the world throws any doubt 
whatever upon the perfections of the Deity, or offers any argu- 
ment against the doctrine of an ever- watchful and ever-gracious 
Providence. It is demonstrable, that there could be no such 
thing as holiness, if sin were not possible ; that happiness is not 
man's greatest good ; and that occasional privation of it, or posi- 
tive suffering, may be essential for our education in virtue. We 
cannot always trace the immediate connection between the evil 
that we now endure, or which we compassionate in others, and 
the moral purpose that it is designed to further, or the benevo- 
lent intention of which it is the index. But we can discern all 
the great features of the scheme, and see that what is hard to 
bear, or painful to look upon, in a particular case, may be a nec- 
essary part of a system of government contrived by infinite wis- 
dom, and executed with almighty power and perfect love. But 
as it is not the general argument, in the somewhat abstruse and 
technical form that I have here given to it, which usually per- 
plexes our ideas of Divine Providence, but rather the hardship 
and the wrong in particular cases, which, we are prone to think, 
might have been prevented by the goodness of God, without 
altering, in any material respect, the broad features of his ad- 
ministration of human affairs, it may be w r orth while to develop 
and apply these principles with some minuteness. 

Progress, not mere attainment, is the law of our being. — All 
that we know of the human mind and of the history of this 
world's affairs, with the intimations that these respectively af- 
ford of the designs of Providence, leads us to conclude, that 
moral discipline, or the formation of character by our oivn 
efforts, aided, indeed, but not determined, by power from on 
high, is the great end of our being here below. Not mere at- 
tainment, but progress, is the law of our finite condition, — 
progress desired, planned, and accomplished by ourselves, as- 
sisted by means that are placed within our reach, though we 
are free to use them or not. Trial and effort, mistakes com- 
mitted and rectified by increased effort, temptations to be met 

32* 



378 THE ORIGIN OF EVIL. 

and vanquished, and difficulties to be overborne, are essential 
parts of such a scheme. Our progress is to be measured, or, in 
other words, our merit is to be determined, by the quantity of 
ground that we have passed over, not by the absolute distance of 
the point that we have reached from the termini of the course. 
Therefore, all start fair in the race, though their points of de- 
parture may be far apart. Mere happiness, however elevated 
and unalloyed, is not the grand object ; for happiness is a state 
or fixed point, implying neither movement nor effort; the desire 
of happiness is implanted in us only as a principle of activity, 
to stimulate, never to be fully satisfied. Virtue, on the other 
hand, is not a state, but an action ; it is not being, but doing. 
All advancement made in it conveys increased power of prog- 
ress, the motive constantly elevating itself and becoming purer, 
obstacles vanishing, and temptations losing their force, as we 
go on. Mere enjoyment, on the other hand, satiates and cloys ; 
a fresh struggle with difficulties is soon required, or the cup 
loses all its sweetness. Repose is pleasant, but continued idle- 
ness is intolerable. 

Difference, in this respect between instinct and reason. — - 
There cannot be a better illustration and proof of the correct- 
ness of this view of life than is afforded by the contrast, winch I 
have already placed before you, between instinct and reason. 
The safety and comfort of the lower animals are provided for, 
and all the ends of their being are obtained, under an unerring 
guide acting above the sphere of their consciousness. They 
reverse the law of human condition ; enjoyment, not progress, is 
their highest good. Results, which, if brought about by man, 
would imply great sagacity and inventive power, would tax the 
loftiest intellect and the most profound study, are accomplished 
by them without effort, without education, and without liability 
to error'. Their faculties, if we may call them theirs, are not 
susceptible of any discipline or improvement whatever ; at the 
dawn of their existence, they begin their allotted tasks, and 
finish them as perfectly as at its close. Having no foresight, 
they have no foretaste of evil. With little, if any, sensibility 
to suffering, their enjoyment, such as it is, appears always com- 



THE ORIGIN OF EVIL. 379 

plete. Death which cannot be foreseen has no terrors ; for 
them, it is simply ceasing to live, and is therefore no more an 
evil, than their non-existence was during all time anterior to 
their birth. 

Contrast their situation with man's, who is born helpless, 
ignorant, and unprotected, save by the affection of his own 
kind. He is left to himself; his will is free, and his reason 
must be developed by its own efforts, through constant trials 
and mistakes, and frequent pain. With all his boasted learning 
and ingenuity, so slowly and laboriously acquired, he cannot 
build so perfect a cell, he cannot form so perfect a society, as 
the bee ; because the construction of a house or a society, how- 
ever faultless, is not the object of his being. The purpose for 
which he was created is, that he may Jit himself for these and 
greater tasks ; the education thus self-acquired being the great 
end in view, and not the mere accomplishment of the task, 
which is comparatively of little moment. We are constantly 
mistaking means for ends, the importance of the supposed ends 
being exaggerated in our view, in order that we may be induced 
to use the supposed means ; in this use or application, in this 
effort and the consequent improvement, lies the real end. Most 
of the ends which men pursue, are pointed out to them by the 
passions and the appetites, — that is, by the lower part of their 
nature ; the strain of the faculties in this pursuit is counted as 
a necessity and a hardship, but is submitted to as the condition 
of success. Reason and conscience, if properly developed, are 
continually admonishing us, it is true, that we mistake in this 
matter ; that the end first in view is not the real end, or of sub- 
stantive importance ; that the formation of character, the devel- 
opment of intellectual and moral power by our own efforts, is 
the true object ; — but their voice can scarcely be heard amid 
the din of the passions. 

The increase of happiness is not the greatest good. — I do but 
take the most general instance under these remarks, when I say, 
that the love of happiness itself is but one of these lower desires, 
and as such, is rightfully restrained by the conscience, which 
declares to us with an authority that we cannot but recognize, 



380 THE ORIGIN OP EVIL. 

though our actions are too seldom directed by it, that mere en- 
joyment is not the greatest good. How, then, is it an impeach- 
ment of the goodness of the Creator, that the happiness of man, 
though carefully provided for within certain limits, is still made 
secondary to his moral improvement? As the idea of virtue 
includes trial, temptation, suffering, and the liability to sin, it is 
a contradiction in terms, to ask that progress in virtue should be 
made compatible with the non-existence of evil. All improve- 
ment presupposes a lower state as a point of departure; all 
merit presupposes that the improvement is voluntary, and is due 
to one's own exertions. 

It may be disputed, perhaps, that the happiness of the brute 
creation is complete ; but we have a right to imagine that it is 
so, and then to compare our own condition with theirs, suppos- 
ing all drawbacks to their enjoyment to be taken away. Is 
there a human being, whatever may have been his individual 
experience, or however large may be his estimate of the sin and 
misery which darken the lot of mankind, who will not exclaim, 
" God be thanked that he has not made me a happy brute, or a 
senseless machine ? " Is not our lot, with all our experience 
of pain and wrong, vastly preferable to theirs, even with their 
supposed immunity from physical suffering? Sin, of course, 
they are not capable of. Or can we imagine any possible con- 
stitution of the human mind, or any government of this world's 
affairs, which shall effectually exclude evil without reducing 
man to the situation of an animal or a machine ? If not, if no 
better system in this respect is even conceivable, to say nothing of 
its possibility, then is the present one the best possible, and both 
the justice and the benevolence of its Author are amply vindi- 
cated. Our inability to conceive of a better one cannot be 
referred to the limitation of our faculties, since we are not called 
upon to devise a scheme, but are enabled to see that any im- 
provement of the present one, in respect generally of the pres- 
ence of evil, would involve a contradiction or an absurdity. 

General laivs are necessary to guide beings who are endowed 
with freeioill. — In order to apply this general solution of the 
problem to particular instances of misfortune and wrong, we 



THE ORIGIN OF EVIL. 381 

must remember that the scheme of Divine government is to be 
taken as a whole. Whatever is essential to carry out any part 
of the plan, must be regarded as a necessary feature of the system, 
and we must accept all its consequences along with it. The edu- 
cation of man, both moral and intellectual, by his own effort, 
being the object to be gained, it becomes necessary that the 
course of events should be governed by general laws ; or, in other 
words, that the action and government of the Deity should be 
uniform, so that events should not appear to us to succeed each 
other confusedly or at random, but in a fixed relation of ante- 
cedence and consequence. If reason is to take the place of 
instinct, that is, if man is to be self-taught, instead of being 
directly moved, like an automaton, by superior wisdom and 
power, then the means and appliances must be provided through 
which alone reason can act. As a guide to conduct, reason 
would be useless without foresight. We could not shape our 
actions beforehand, without some knowledge of the future which 
they are to affect ; nor could this knowledge be gained, without 
such a clew as is afforded by the uniformity of nature. Ex- 
perience, the great teacher of reason, derives all its efficacy 
from our belief, that the future will resemble the past, that bodies 
will always retain their properties, that food will continue to 
nourish, fire to burn, and poison to kill, and that different 
motives will retain generally the efficiency they have often 
shown in swaying the conduct of others. A rational being 
could not move a step, except at random, but for this confidence 
in the permanency of natural causes, as they are called. We 
have a right to say, then, that the preservation of general laws is 
an essential feature of that scheme of Divine government which 
we have tried to develop, — that, without them, man could not 
be self-taught, would not be capable of progress, could not be a 
free agent or a moral being. It is no paradox to say, that the 
continuance, the inflexibility, of the law of gravitation, is essen- 
tial to the support of the law of morality, is vital to the exist- 
ence of virtue itself. 

General laws cannot be suspended in particidar cases. — 
Then we must accept all the necessary consequences of general 



382 THE ORIGIN OF EVIL. 

laws along with them. In the vast majority of instances, we 
may presume that they will work for good, tending equally to 
guide the conduct, satisfy the wants, and promote the happiness 
of man ; and this presumption, as we have seen, is amply sus- 
tained by experience. But in particular cases, their very inflex- 
ibility occasions their doing apparent harm ; and these are the 
instances of evil which most frequently incline men to murmur 
against Divine Providence. They are called " accidents," 
" misfortunes," and even the believer sometimes repines because 
the good are not protected against them. But it has been 
proved that there is no such thing as chance, or accident, or for- 
tune. The position even of a grain of sand, the waving of a 
leaf in the wind, is determined, not indeed by the blind and 
mechanical cooperation of the properties of matter, but by the 
same wisdom and goodness which made human nature capable 
of virtue, and which dispose all events for the guidance and the 
moral improvement of the human family. Unless the course 
of these events were uniform and inflexible, the whole effect of 
the lesson would be lost. It seems a light thing for the sufferer 
under a particular calamity to ask that the law of order may be 
suspended in his case, at least for this time, — that the tempest 
may not wreck his vessel, or the fire consume his dwelling, or 
the blight visit his fields, — that the hand of the oppressor may 
be stayed, and the wicked may cease to triumph. But as mill- 
ions have equal reason to ask for the same indulgence, if the 
prayers of all were granted, general disorder and confusion 
would ensue. We could no longer profit by the past, or prepare 
for the future. Prudence would be a word without meaning, 
and foresight an impossible attainment. The study of nature, 
which now, in a greater or less degree, taxes and improves the 
intellect of every human being, would be a profitless collection 
of individual and isolated cases, from which no instruction could 
be gleaned ; and, as such, it would be abandoned. Having no 
means of divining the future, man could only stumble onward 
in the dark, or be led by the hand at every step, like a blind 
child, through the palace of God's works. 

" If we attempt," says Dr. Ferguson, " to conceive such a 



THE ORIGIN OF EVLL. 383 

scene as some skeptics would require to evince the wisdom and 
goodness of God, a scene in which every desire were at once 
gratified without delay, difficulty, or trouble, it is evident, that, on 
such a supposition, the end of every active pursuit would be 
anticipated ; exertion would be prevented, every faculty remain 
unemployed, and mind itself would be no more than a conscious 
ness of languor under an oppression of weariness, such as 
satiety and continued inoccupation are known to produce. On 
this supposition, all the active powers which distinguish human 
nature would be superfluous, and only serve to disturb our peace, 
or sour the taste of those inferior pleasures which appear to be 
consistent with indolence and sloth." 

Suspension of the law would work greater evils. — But you 
ask that the law may be suspended only in this instance, and 
still be allowed to prevail elsewhere, so that, here, signal virtue 
may be rewarded or saved from suffering, while the uniformity 
of Providence may be maintained as a guide to man on all 
other occasions. Passing over the difficulty already adverted 
to, that the number of equally just applications for interference 
would so far balance the number of cases in which the law held 
good, as to destroy all confidence in the uniformity of nature, it 
is important to consider how far the consequences of any one 
interference might extend. If the wind is not to blow, in order 
that the hopes of one righteous man may not be wrecked, the 
atmosphere may stagnate and corrupt over large regions of 
space, bringing pestilence and death to thousands. The inun- 
dation that sweeps away one house, may fertilize a whole district. 

" Think we, like some weak prince, the Eternal Cause, 
Prone for his favorites to reverse his laws 1 
When the loose mountain trembles from on high, 
Shall gravitation cease, if you go by 1 
Or some old temple, nodding to its fall, 
For Chartres' head reserve the hanging wall 1 " 

Besides, in order that the good may improve in goodness, 
there must be something contingent and uncertain in the rewards 
of virtue. Constituted as we are in other respects, and general 
laws still holding good in the majority of cases, the invariable 



384 THE ORIGIN OF EVIL. 

visible connection of virtue with happiness would destroy the 
whole foundation of disinterested conduct. Moreover, the mis- 
chance, as we call it, affects only the outward advantages of 
rectitude ; its inward rewards are always sure, and these are a 
sufficient compensation for the hardship or loss. 

" What nothing earthly gives, or can destroy, 
The soul's calm sunshine and the heartfelt joy, 
Is virtue's prize ; a better would you fix, 
Then give Humility a coach and six, 
Justice a conqueror's sword, or Truth a gown, 
Or Public Spirit its great cure, a crown." 

Each particular virtue presupposes the existence of its oppo- 
site. — And this suggests the next consideration, that, if we ex- 
amine separately the requisitions of the moral law, we shall 
find that each individual virtue presupposes the existence either 
of misfortune or wrong. Thus, courage would not be possible 
without danger, nor fortitude without pain. There could be no 
temperance, but for the liability to excess, and no benevolence, un- 
less there were wants to satisfy, or sufferings to relieve. Even 
justice would lose the greater part of its merit, if there was no 
self-denial in satisfying its demands. Prudence could not be 
exercised, if recklessness could not suffer ; and even veracity 
would be no virtue, if one coidd not help telling the truth. He 
w T ho could not do harm or wrong, might still be innocent, it is 
true ; but there would be no merit in his innocence. In short, 
merit consists in withstanding temptation, alleviating pain, and 
opposing wrong ; so that, tvithout the presence of evil, there would 
be nothing to praise, and nothing to blame. These reasons, be 
it observed, account not only for the permission of the crimes, 
whether of omission or commission, which men are guilty of, 
but for the physical evils which befall us from the unalterable - 
course of external nature, or are only so far connected with 
mind, that we must assume the existence of a sentient being 
before the mischief can be felt. 

Evil has always a compensating good. — That there is no 
evil, dependent on natural causes alone, which has not its com- 
pensating good, is a truth which has been so much insisted 



THE ORIGIN OF EVIL. 385 

upon by writers on this subject, that I need not dwell upon" it 
here.* The difficulty of finding out what this compensation is, 
in some cases, shows the imperfection of our faculties, but cer- 
tainly does not accuse the benevolence of God. The most ob- 
vious reason for this difficulty, is the vast compass of the system, 
of which each individual being constitutes so small a part. 
'• Imagine only," says Shaftesbury, " some person entirely a 
stranger to navigation, and ignorant of the nature of sea or 
waters : How great his astonishment, when, finding himself on 
board some vessel anchored at sea, remote from all land pros- 
pect, whilst it was yet a calm, he viewed the ponderous ma- 
chine, firm and motionless in the midst of the smooth ocean, 
and considered its foundation beneath, together with its cord- 
age, masts, and sails above, — how easily would he see the 
whole one regular structure, all things depending on each other ; 
the uses of the rooms below, the lodgements, and the conven- 
iences of men and stores ! But being ignorant of the intent and 
design of all above, would he pronounce the masts and cordage 
to be useless and cumbersome, and for this reason condemn the 
frame and despise the architect ? 0, my friend, let us not thus 
betray our ignorance, but consider where we are, and in what a 
universe ! Think of the many parts of the vast machine, in 
which we have so little insight, and of which it is impossible 
that we should know the ends and uses : when, instead of seeing 
to the higliest pendants, we see only some lower deck, and are 

* " Thus, for example, poverty, or the want of riches, is generally com- 
pensated by having more hopes, and fewer fears, by a greater share of 
health, and a more exquisite relish of the smallest enjoyments, than those 
who possess them are usually blessed with. The want of taste and gen- 
ius, with all the pleasures that arise from them, are commonly recom- 
pensed by a more useful kind of common sense, together with a wonderful 
delight, as well as success, in the busy pursuits of a scrambling world. 
The sufferings of the sick are gi'eatly relieved by many trifling gratifica- 
tions imperceptible to others, and sometimes almost repaid by the incon- 
ceivable transports occasioned by the return of health and vigor. Folly 
cannot be very grievous, because imperceptible ; and I doubt not but there 
is some truth in that rant of a mad poet, That there is a pleasure in being 
mad, which none but madmen know." — Soame Jefiyns. 



386 THE ORIGIN OF EVIL. 

in this dark case of flesh confined, even to the hold and meanest 
station of the vessel." 

General laws, on the whole, promote order and happiness. — 
Every discovery in science, all progress in the knowledge of 
nature, goes to illustrate and confirm the truth, that the tendency 
of the general laws which prevail in the universe is favorable, 
on the whole, to order and to happiness. Time is necessary, 
that this truth may become known. An observer of vegetable 
life, whose knowledge was confined to a single year, would con- 
sider the approach of winter as an irreparable calamity. The 
falling of the foliage, the death of annual plants, the earth sealed 
up by frosts, and the skies darkened by storms, would appear 
to him not merely as unredeemed evils, but as tokens of a uni- 
versal cessation of life, if not of a dissolution of all things. But 
so familiar to us is the fact, that the decay of plants is neces- 
sary to keep up the fertility of the ground, and that the powers 
of vegetation, ■ suspended during the winter, burst forth with ad- 
ditional luxuriance in the spring, that we hardly think of reck- 
oning the end of the glories of autumn among the evils of nature. 
The most poisonous plants, when administered with skill and in 
moderate doses, have been found to possess the most valuable 
medicinal qualities. The pain which follows cutting or other- 
wise wounding the flesh, and generally the great sensitiveness 
of the outer surface of the body, were thought, till very recently, 
to be unmitigated evils ; but it is now ascertained, from the dis- 
tribution of this sensitiveness, that its purpose is unquestionably 
one of pure benevolence, its office being to warn us against the 
approach of bodily harm, since those parts which are not liable 
to injury are not rendered sensitive. But the skeptic will ask, 
If Omnipotence could not guard us against such harm, without 
the use of means that involve suffering ? Certainly it could, just 
as it does, in the case of the lower animals, by leading us blind- 
fold away from the harm, compelling us to take precautions 
against it without our being conscious that they are precautions. 
But then where would be human reason, forethought, and free- 
will ? or how would mental and moral discipline, or self-educa- 
tion, be possible ? Consistently with the preservation of these 



THE ORIGIN OF EVIL. 387 

great ends, which we have seen to be paramount in importance 
over all others for man's own good, we may confidently say, 
that the means actually adopted in man's case are the wisest, 
kindest, and best. 

Special provision against pain. — But the progress of dis- 
covery within a year or two has added another and still more 
striking illustration of the truth here referred to. To the per- 
fection of the plan just described, for warding off bodily harm, 
it might have been objected, that surgical operations sometimes 
become necessary for removing a deeply seated injury, and that 
the pain which the surgeon is then obliged to inflict, being use- 
less for its original purpose of warning us against danger, is an 
evil without compensation. This objection, I say, might have 
been made, though it would not have seemed a very reasonable 
one ; for it amounts to asking, that, under a system of which the 
preservation of general laws is an essential part, precisely the 
same thing — namely, the cutting of the flesh — should be at- 
tended with pain, if done accidentally, but should be free from 
pain, if done intentionally, and with a benevolent purpose. 
This would seem to be a contradiction. But who shall prescribe 
bounds to the wisdom and goodness of God? Certain sub- 
stances in nature have been endowed with such properties, that 
when administered to the patient, without causing any harm to 
his bodily constitution, his sensibility to pain, for a time, is en- 
tirely destroyed, and the surgeon may do his most formidable 
office upon him, while he is enjoying the happiest of dreams. 
"Will even the skeptic dare affirm, that the marvellous anaes- 
thetic properties of ether and chloroform were not added to 
these substances for the express purpose which they have 
recently been discovered to answer, or that the discovery itself, 
so unexpectedly made, was not intended both to reward and 
stimulate man's researches in science with a view of doing good 
to his fellows, so that it is comprehended under that vast scheme 
of self-education which is the great object of man's earthly ex- 
istence ? In reference only to this discovery and its immediate 
results, it is not going too far to apply the remark first made in 
regard to the astronomer, and to say that the undevout surgeon 
is mad. 



THE ORIGIN OF EVIL. 

Increase of knowledge would explain away other evils. — Self- 
improvement, both of the individual and of the race, seems to 
be the leading purpose of the Deity in the government of man- 
kind. The several parts of man's nature are developed through 
their influence on each other, and in due proportion. The cul- 
tivation of his intellect, and the stores of knowledge thereby 
amassed, are continually adding to the safeguards of conscience 
and to the evidences of religion, — continually doing away with 
those objections to the providence of God, which, in the infancy 
of the race, perhaps, can be met by the humility and the power 
of Faith alone. Who can say how many of the apparent in- 
dividual evils of man's condition upon earth, now inexplicable, 
except from the general consideration that the possibility of suf- 
fering and sin is absolutely essential to any progress in happi- 
ness and virtue, will be directly explained away by the future 
triumphs of science, which has recently shed so much light upon 
the beneficent constitution of the body in regard to pain ? * 



* In the argument from design, as Lord Brougham remarks, we infer 
that contrivance is universal, because we are able to trace and comprehend 
it in the great majority of instances ; the number of exceptions to the 
rule continually diminishing as our knowledge of nature increases, we 
have a right to conclude, with respect to every natural arrangement in 
which we cannot yet detect a purpose, that the fault is only in our imper- 
fect information, — that the purpose exists, though we have not yet dis- 
covered it, and that the Deity really does nothing in vain, though man 
may not be able, in every case, to read His designs. 

The same form of reasoning may be employed, when we would account 
for the origin of evil. Many things were considered by the ancients to be 
unmitigated evils, which, as the progress of inodem science has shown, 
ought rather to be considered as unmingled good. The instance given in 
the text is a fair example. We can now see, that the liability to pain 
never exists except where it answers a useful purpose, — that of warning 
us against danger ; and that means are placed within our reach to effect a 
temporary suspension of the pain even in these cases, if any necessity 
arises for performing a surgical operation. Modern investigations have 
brought to light so many instances of this sort, that a fair induction from 
them enables us to conclude, that all thcremaining specks will disappear, 
as soon as scientific research is carried far enough. We may even discern 
a reason why they are still allowed to dim the prospect ; it is that we may 



THE ORIGIN OF EYIL. 389 

That the general laws of the universe are favorable to order 
and to happiness, is an observation, says Mr. Stewart, which " I 
am persuaded will appear, upon an accurate examination, to 
hold without any exception whatever; and it is one of the 
noblest employments of philosophy to verify and illustrate its 
universality, by investigating the beneficent purposes to which 
the laws of nature are subservient. Now, it is evidently from 
these general laws alone, that the ultimate ends of Providence can 
be judged of and not from their accidental collisions with the 
partial interests of individuals ; — collisions, too, which so often 
arise from an abuse of their moral liberty. It is the great error 
of the vulgar (who are incapable of comprehensive views) to 
attempt to read the ways of Providence in particular events, 



be incited to make the requisite efforts for the attainment of that knowl- 
edge in whose light they will finally disappear. 

" The problem has been solved by mathematicians, Sir Isaac Newton 
having first investigated it, of finding the form of a symmetrical solid, or 
solid of revolution, which in moving through a fluid shall experience the 
least possible resistance ; in other words, of finding the form which must 
be impressed upon any given bulk of matter, so that it shall move more 
easily through a surrounding fluid than if it had any other conceivable 
form whatever, with a breadth or a length also given. The figure bears a 
striking resemblance to that of a fish. Now suppose a fish were formed 
exactly in this shape, and that some animal endowed with reason were 
placed upon a portion of its surface, and able to trace its form for only a 
limited extent, say at the narrow part, where the broad portion or end of 
the moving body was opposed, or seemed as if it were opposed, to the sur- 
rounding fluid when the fish moved ; — the reasoner would at once con- 
clude, that the contrivance of the fish's form was veiy inconvenient and 
artificial, and that nothing could be worse adapted for expeditious or easy 
movement through the waters. Yet it is certain, that, upon being after- 
wards permitted to view the whole body of the fish, what had seemed a 
defect and an evil, not only would appear plainly to be none at all, but it 
would appear manifest, that this seeming evil or defect was a part of the 
most perfect and excellent structure which it was possible even for Om- 
nipotence and Omniscience to have adopted, and that no other conceivable 
arrangement could by possibility have produced so much advantage, or 
tended so much to fulfil the design in view." — Brougham's Supplementary 
Dissertations to Paley. 

33* 



390 THE ORIGIN OF EVIL. 

and to judge favorably or unfavorably of the order of the uni- 
verse from its accidental effects with respect to themselves or 
their friends. Perhaps, indeed, this disposition is inseparable, 
in some degree, from the weakness of humanity. But surely it 
is a weakness, which we ought to strive to correct ; and the 
more we do correct it, the more pleasing our conceptions of the 
universe become. Accidental inconveniences disappear, when 
compared with the magnitude of the advantages which it is the 
object of the general laws to secure : ' or,' as one author has 
expressed it, ' scattered evils are lost in the blaze of superabun- 
dant goodness, as the spots on the disk of the sun are lost in the 
splendor of his rays.' " 

Merit determined by progress, not by attainment. — That 
^ogress in knowledge, happiness, and virtue, effected through 
our own exertions, and not the mere attainment of any fixed 
point or degree in either, is the main purpose of our being here 
below, and really our greatest good, is a doctrine which imme- 
diately explains away all those supposed evils in human condi- 
tion, which are usually classed under the heads of inequality and 
imperfection. All conditions are alike in this respect, inasmuch 
as all admit of advance and improvement ; the progress of each 
individual being measured from his own starting point, all have 
an equal chance of winning the prize, though the lot of some be 
cast in the early ages of hoar antiquity, and others are seem- 
ingly favored by the intelligence, the arts, and the morals of 
civilized nations and modern times. The happiness of each, as 
we have seen, is computed by his own standard of happiness, 
whatever that may be ; and his merit, also, is determined by 
the measure of his moral improvement, and not by the refine- 
ment of those ideas of virtue which he may finally attain. It 
is, then, so far from an impeachment of the goodness of the Cre- 
ator that he has made us finite beings, finite in our existence, 
our capacities, our virtues, and our enjoyments, that we see at 
once, infinity or perfection is the only point from which progress 
is impossible. Death alone, or in itself considered, apart from 
the antecedent dread of it, and from the injury to the feelings 
of the survivors, is not even an apparent evil, any more than 



THE ORIGIN OF EVIL. 391 

the fact of our non-existence through antecedent ages.* It is 
matter of the commonest observation, also, that it is not the 
possession of any given quantity of the means of enjoyment, 
however great, but the increase of that quantity, whether the 
original sum were a unit or a million, which makes a man 
happy. To adopt Paley's illustration, " It is not the income 
which any man possesses, but the increase of income that af- 
fords the pleasure." 

Virtue and happiness determined only hy reference to capacity. 
— How unphilosophical, then, as well as ungrateful, is that 
frame of mind which looks with a jaundiced eye over creation, 
intent only on spying out its evils and imperfections ; which 
pities the oyster, because it is inferior to the vertebrated ani- 
mal, the quadruped, because it is not equal to man, and man, be- 
cause his finite capacities are far below the perfections, of the 
Infinite One ! Yet it is only such reasoning as this, which has 

* There is so much truth, as well as beauty, in the following remarks by 
Soame Jenyns, that I quote the whole passage, though some of the partic- 
ular statements and arguments in it are open to criticism. 

" Death, the last and most dreadful of all evils, is so far from being 
one, that it is the infallible cure of all others. 

To die is landing on some silent shore, 
Where billows never beat, nor tempests roar ; 
Ere well we feel the friendly stroke, 't is o ; er. 

For, abstracted from the sickness and sufferings usually attending it, it is 
no more than the expiration of that term of life God was pleased to be- 
stow on us, without any claim or merit on our part. But was it an 
evil ever so great, it could not be remedied but by one much greater, which 
is by living for ever; by which means, our wickedness, unrestrained by the 
prospect of a future state, would grow so insupportable, our sufferings so 
intolerable by perseverance, and our pleasures so tiresome by repetition, 
that no being in the universe could be so completely miserable as a spe- 
cies of immortal men. We have no reason, therefore, to look upon death 
as an evil, or to fear it as a punishment, even without any supposition of 
a future life : but if we consider it as a passage to a more perfect state, or 
a remove only in an eternal succession of still improving states, (for which 
we have the strongest reasons), it will then appear a new favor from the 
divine munificence ; and a man must be as absurd to repine at dying, 
as a traveller would be, who proposed to himself a delightful tour through 



392 THE ORIGIN OF EVIL. 

made the problem respecting the origin of evil to appear insolu- 
ble. However great the good which is actually provided may 
be, the skeptic fancies that he may always ask, Why is it not 
greater ? If mankind are happy, why were they not created 
earlier, or why do they not now exist in greater numbers? 
Here is the error of supposing that virtue and happiness are 
tangible products, instead of abstract ideas, — are quantities 
which may be weighed or measured, the goodness of the Crea- 
tor being estimated by the magnitude of the aggregate. But it 
is not so ; each can be determined only in reference to the ca- 
pacities of the individual, whose cup of enjoyment, whatever its 
dimensions may be, being full, or whose merit being positive 
from the moral improvement that he has made, no matter where 
he began or where he leaves off, the equity of the Divine gov- 
ernment, in his respect, is sufficiently vindicated. Hence the 
justice as well as the beauty of the solemn affirmation of our 

various unknown countries, to lament that he cannot take up his residence 
at the first dirty inn which he baits at on the road. 

" The instability of human life, or the hasty changes of its successive 
periods, of which we so frequently complain, are no more than the neces- 
sary progress of it to this necessary conclusion ; and are so far from being 
evils deserving these complaints, that they are the source of our greatest 
pleasures, as they are the source of all novelty, from which our greatest 
pleasures are ever derived. The continual succession of seasons in the 
human life, by daily presenting to us new scenes, render it agreeable, and 
like those of the year, afford us delights by their change, which the choicest 
of them could not give us by their continuance. In the spring of life, the 
gilding of the sunshine, the verdure of the fields, and the variegated paint- 
ings of the sky, are so exquisite in the eyes of infants at their first looking 
abroad into a new world, as nothing perhaps afterwards can equal. The 
heat and vigor of the succeeding summer of youth ripens for us new 
pleasures, the blooming maid, the nightly revel, and the jovial chase : the 
serene autumn of complete manhood feasts us with the golden harvests of 
our worldly pursuits : nor is the hoary winter of old age destitute of its 
peculiar comforts and enjoyments, of which the recollection and relation 
of those past are perhaps none of the least ; and at last, death opens to us 
a new prospect, from whence we shall probably look back upon the diver- 
sions and occupations of this world with the same contempt we do now on 
our tops, and hobby-horses, and with the same surprise, that they could 
ever so much entertain or engage us." — Soame Jenyns. 



THE UNITY OF GOD. 393 

Saviour, that " There is more joy in heaven over one sinner 
that repenteth, than over ninety and nine just persons who need 
no repentance." A German writer has expressed the same 
general truth in a forcible, perhaps hyperbolical, manner. 
" If," says Lessing, " God should hold all truths inclosed in his 
right hand, and in his left, only the ever-active impulse to the 
pursuit of truth, although with the condition that I should 
always and for ever err, and should say to me, Choose ! — I 
should fall with submission upon his left hand, and say, Father, 
give ! Pure Truth is for Thee alone." 



CHAPTER VIII. 



THE UNITY OF GOD. 



Summary of the last chapter. — It was remarked in the last 
chapter, in reference to the problem respecting the origin of 
evil, that we need not consider how much evil there is in the 
world ; for the problem is solved, when we can account for the 
existence of any evil, however small, and show that it is recon- 
cilable with a belief in the infinite goodness and almighty power 
of the Creator. Now, omnipotence does not include the power 
to accomplish a metaphysical impossibility, the statement of 
which always involves a contradiction, or, in other words, is an 
absurd and meaningless statement. It is just as contradictory 
to suppose that virtue can exist without a free choice between 
good and evil, as that four is not equal to twice two ; for freedom 
is involved in the idea of virtue, just as twice two is involved in 
the idea of four. The phrase compulsory or enforced virtue, 
is quite as absurd as that of a virtuous machine. Sin and suf- 
fering, therefore, must be possible, if virtue is to be possible ; 
and if virtue is man's highest interest, which both reason and 



394 THE UNITY OF GOD. 

conscience loudly declare, then it is not only compatible with 
infinite benevolence, but essential to it, that pain and wrong 
should be permitted. The balance is consequently on the side 
of good, or a greater good is accomplished than would otherwise 
be possible. Benevolence does not consist simply in preventing 
pain, but in bestowing the largest amount, or balance, of pleas- 
ure ; just as a man with an income of a thousand a year, but 
who is in debt for a hundred, is still richer than one with an 
annual revenue of five hundred, which is wholly unincumbered. 
It was shown that no exemption from evil was possible, or even 
conceivable, which would not reduce man to the condition of a 
brute or a machine ; and as his state, at the worst, is immeasu- 
rably preferable to theirs, his state is, in fact, the best possible ; 
for we cannot even conceive of a better one, — that is, we can- 
not point out any defect in it. 

In applying this solution to particular cases of evil, it was re- 
marked, that education self-acquired, or progress in virtue and 
happiness through one's own efforts, is our greatest good, and 
the final end of our being here below. It is essential for such 
progress that the universe should be governed by general laws ; 
that is, that the course of nature, or the action of the Deity, 
should be uniform ; — reason would otherwise be inferior to in- 
stinct, and could not operate as a guide to conduct. We may 
expect that the general tendency of these laws will promote 
order and happiness ; but, for the very reason that they are 
general and inflexible, they must sometimes conflict with the 
interests of individuals. The weakness of human nature is 
prone to magnify the importance of these collisions, and to com- 
plain of them as defects in the order of Providence. In a 
broader view, they are seen to be necessary parts of a system 
devised by infinite wisdom and benevolence for the highest 
interests of mankind. Some good always results from them ; 
none are without compensation, in respect either of outward ad- 
vantages or of inward enjoyment. The imperfections and ine- 
qualities of human condition cease to appear as evils, when 
self-improvement, or an advance in knowledge, virtue, and hap- 
piness, is regarded as the principal aim of our existence ; upon 



THE UNITY OF GOD. 395 

this theory, all start alike, and we no longer regret that absolute 
perfection is unattainable, when we remember that it is the only 
state in which progress is impossible. As science advances, and 
we learn more of the secrets of nature and the purposes of the 
Deity, these apparent evils lessen in number and gradually fade 
away. Bodily pain, which ranks first among them in the esti- 
mation of the vulgar, has been shown by recent discoveries to 
be a purely beneficent institution ; and as our horizon enlarges 
and our vision improves, there is every reason to hope, that all 
the other ills of our lot will appear either imaginary, or such as 
would in no way interfere with the enjoyment of a wise and 
good man. The specks that are apparent in the administration 
of this world's affairs will be lost in the unutterable splendors 
of Divine justice, mercy, and love. 

TJie doctrine of the Manichceans. — Among the most remark- 
able theories to which the discussions respecting the origin of 
evil have given rise, is the doctrine of the Manichaeans, who 
maintained that the world is governed by two coeternal and 
independent principles, or deities, the one benevolent and the 
other malicious ; and that from the perpetual conflict between 
them arises the mingling of joy with woe in the condition of 
mankind. This belief, irreconcilable, as it appears, either with 
sound reason or pure religion, existed even in the bosom of the 
Christian church in its earlier ages, so renowned a theologian as 
St. Augustine having once adhered to it ; and some traces of 
it, perhaps, remain to the present day, in the vulgar doctrine 
respecting devils. It is hardly necessary to say, that, from a 
warfare which has been going on from all eternity between two 
equally powerful deities, nothing but confusion could ensue ; so 
that the theory is at once rebuked by the order and harmony 
{that prevail throughout the universe* Their alternate reign 
might explain recurrent periods of unmingled happiness and 
unmingled misery, but would not do away with the objection 
arising from the mixture at the same moment of good with evil. 
Both could not be almighty, since the unbounded power of one 
would be a limitation (that is, a negation) of the infinite power 
of the other. On the other hand, they must be equally mighty, 



3yb THE UNITY OF GOD. 

since, otherwise, their purposes always clashing, the stronger 
would certainly destroy the weaker, or reduce him to inaction. 
But the existence of two finite beings of equal attributes, the 
one perfectly good, and the other irredeemably wicked, is just 
as difficult to be accounted for as the coexistence of good and 
evil among mankind, to explain which this theory was first in- 
vented.* It is but supposing that the class of the virtuous is 
diminished in number till but one representative of it remains, 
and that the same thing takes place with regard to the wicked ; 
— a supposition which throws no light upon the main question, 
why any wickedness is permitted. 

Polytheism is the oldest religious belief. — But having already 
accounted for the presence of evil, we need not concern our- 
selves about this fable, — for it is a fable, or legend, rather than 
a doctrine of philosophy or theology, — except to point to it as 
one of the forms of polytheism, or of those religious systems 
that are not based upon the dogma of the unity of God, the 
subject which I propose to discuss in the present chapter. If 
we look only at what Hume calls the natural history of religion, 



* " The Manichasan doctrine, of two eternal and mutually repugnant 
principles," says Dr. Crombie, " seems morally impossible. To suppose 
an eternal and infinite being, possessing unlimited wisdom and power, 
whose nature is purely malevolent, is to suppose the coexistence of two 
irreconcilable contrarieties. Malignity, implying ignorance and weakness, 
cannot possibly coexist with the attributes of infinite power and infinite wisdom. 
This objection alone appears fatal to the hypothesis. 

" Nor is the hypothesis more defensible on the supposition, that the two 
eternal beings do not possess infinite wisdom and infinite power. If such 
could without absurdity be supposed to exist, they must either possess 
these attributes in an equal degree, or one must be superior to the other. 
If we take the former alternative, the energies of both, engaged in eternal 
conflict, must be mutually neutralized. Every effort of the one to produce 
good or evil, must be instantly counteracted by the opposition of the other. 
Like two equal contending weights, neither could preponderate. Under 
the conflicting agencies of two such beings, there could exist neither good 
nor evil. If we take the other alternative, and suppose the superiority of 
either, it is evident that the inferior must ultimately yield, and the struggle 
for the mastery terminate in the established ascendency of his more saga- 
cious and powerful opponent." — Crombie's Nat. Theology, Vol. II. p. 158. 



THE UNITY OF GOD. 397 

and put aside the inquiry respecting a primitive revelation to 
mankind, there is no doubt that jjolytheism is the most ancient 
form of religious faith, as it is still the most prevalent one. It 
is the natural belief of a barbarous or half-civilized nation, who 
have neither tradition nor philosophy to set them right. The 
religious sentiment in man is indestructible. Men are inclined 
to venerate and worship some unseen power or powers, just as 
strongly as to exercise the benevolent affections, and to seek out 
some objects, if none happen to be originally near at hand, on 
which these feelings may expend themselves. The manifesta- 
tion of power is so firmly associated in every one's mind with the 
presence of a conscious individual agency, that striking physical 
occurrences, such as tempests, earthquakes, inundations, thunder, 
and the return of the seasons, are unhesitatingly referred, at 
first, each to its peculiar deity, or conscious cause. The faith 
of the vulgar is soon systematized, expanded, and recorded in 
the first rude attempts of a people at poetry, philosophy, and 
theology, — pursuits which are naturally antecedent to those of 
the physical sciences, for the same reason that poetry precedes 
prose ; namely, that the imagination works with greater facility 
and pleasure than the judgment or the logical faculty. When 
thus partially reduced to order, and enshrined in verse, this 
faith becomes a system of mythology, which, from the variety 
and interesting character of its materials, will always maintain 
a strong hold upon uncultivated minds, though the learned and 
the philosophical will be struck with a view of its incongruities 
and absurdities, and will strive to fashion for themselves an 
esoteric doctrine of a single principle, which sustains and gov- 
erns all things. 

The opinion, that polytheism is the first natural product of 
the religious sentiment among mankind, and that it everywhere 
preceded a belief in the unity of God, is ably sustained by 
Hume, a portion of whose argument I borrow the more will- 
ingly, as it is sanctioned by the high authority of Dugald 
Stewart. " It seems certain," says Hume, " that, according to 
the natural progress of human thought, the ignorant multitude 
must first entertain some grovelling and familiar notion of 

34 



THE UNITY OF GOD. 

superior powers, before they stretch their conception to that 
perfect Being who bestowed order on the whole frame of nature. 
We may as reasonably imagine, that men inhabited palaces 
before huts and cottages, or studied geometry before agriculture, 
as assert that the Deity appeared to them a pure spirit, omni- 
scient, omnipotent, and omnipresent, before he was apprehended 
to be a powerful, though limited being, with human passions and 
appetites, limbs and organs. The mind rises gradually from 
inferior to superior ; by abstracting from what is imperfect, it 
forms an idea of perfection ; and, slowly distinguishing the nobler 
parts of its own frame from the grosser, it learns to transfer 
only the former, much elevated and refined, to its divinity. 
Nothing could disturb this natural progress of thought, but some 
obvious and invincible argument, which might immediately lead 
the mind into the pure principles of theism, and make it over- 
leap, at one bound, the vast interval which is interposed between 
the human and the Divine nature. But though I allow, that 
the order and frame of the universe, when accurately examined, 
affords such an argument, yet I can never think that this con- 
sideration could have an influence on mankind when they formed 
their first rude notions of religion." 

The progress of science lessens the number of deities. — The 
number and variety of the operations of nature suggest to the 
ignorant and uninquiring mind a corresponding number of un- 
known causes which are active in producing them. The move- 
ments and changeable aspects of the clouds, the air, the rivers, 
the sea, — the growth of plants, and the diurnal and annual 
revolutions of the starry firmament, are referred each to its 
hidden cause or separate deity ; every volcano has an imprisoned 
demigod struggling under it, and every thunderstorm suggests 
an angry deity launching his bolts against his foes. As science 
advances, objects and events are classified, and causes general- 
ized. Phenomena the most unlike in outward appearance, are 
found to be explicable through the operation of one and the 
same power. The law of gravitation alone explains most of 
the physical changes which were arranged by the ancients under 
so many distinct heads and sovereigns ; many others are trace- 



THE UNITY OF GOD. 399 

able to the single law of chemical affinities. Hence, if a 
mythology were to be constructed now, on the same general 
principles as of old, Olympus would be less crowded. 

If, from purely physical occurrences, we turn to the vicissitudes 
of maris condition and the general course of human affairs, we 
find a similar effect produced on religious belief. In barbar- 
ous ages, the lot of individuals seems to be determined by chance, 
or by the conjunction of an indefinite number of causes. The 
fortunes of war, the caprices of sovereigns, the ravages (against 
which ignorance has no shield) of famine and pestilence, the 
rise and fall of dynasties, and the brief cycles of national pros- 
perity and adversity, introduce so much uncertainty into all cal- 
culations respecting the future, that men are tempted to refer 
all events to the agency of a crowd of independent and often 
hostile deities, against whose power human strivings produce 
but little effect. But the study of history and of the laws of the 
human mind, with a knowledge of the fundamental principles 
of politics and political economy, brings order into this chaos, 
and makes the past intelligible, and the future a subject of cal- 
culation and foresight. Good and ill fortune are now referred 
to their true sources, in the characters of men themselves, and 
the number of special deities who exert any influence over 
human affairs, is rapidly reduced to one. 

Two conclusions may be drawn from this fact of the early 
growth of polytheism. The first is, that the religious sentiment 
alone is no safe guide to the doctrine of the unity of God ; it is 
equally well satisfied by the worship of a crowd of inferior dei- 
ties. Reason alone, or reason aided by Revelation, can enable 
us to form fit conceptions of the Supreme Being. Natural the- 
ology is the product of the understanding and the moral sense ; 
feeling or sentiment only affecting the mode of our perception 
of its truths, or forming the atmosphere through which we re- 
gard them. The second inference is, that if, at an early period 
of civilization, among a people otherwise rude and ignorant, or 
at any rate, enjoying no special advantages over surrounding 
nations, a belief in the unity of God is found to be a prominent 



400 THE UNITY OF GOD. 

feature in their religion, the conclusion is unavoidable, that this 
belief came from immediate revelation. It is not the natural 
product of the human mind under such circumstances ; the un- 
assisted reason could not have attained to it. It is supernatural, 
then, whether it be a remnant of the knowledge with which man 
was originally endowed when he was first placed upon the 
earth, and by which alone he could be fitted for the exigencies 
of a situation at once novel and perilous, or a special communi- 
cation from on high, designed as a foundation for a purer faith, 
and as seed for subsequent diffusion among all tribes, languages, 
and nations. 

Polytheism rejected by educated and thinking minds. — Poly- 
theism being the earliest product of the religious sentiment, and 
maintaining a strong hold upon the imaginations of the vulgar, 
we might expect that high mental cultivation would either en- 
able a few minds to detect its absurdities, and to refine it into a 
system of pure theism, or that these few would themselves fall 
back into utter skepticism. The enlightened class among the 
Greeks and Romans really fluctuated between these two ex- 
tremes. They derided the popular faith, but they had nothing 
certain to put in its place. Their speculations upon the subject 
have the air rather of exercises of fancy and rhetoric, than of 
the argumentative examination of a theme of vital importance 
to man. Socrates was perhaps the only one among them, of 
whose opinions and reasonings we have any full statement, who 
entertained decided notions respecting the character and func- 
tions of the Supreme Being ; and it was the purity of his ethical 
system, rather than the soundness of his philosophy in general, 
which guided him to a right conclusion. His pupil, Plato, mys- 
tified his teacher's doctrine with so many strange fancies and 
untenable conceits, that it is difficult to believe that he was 
earnest in the inquiry. Of course, I sj)eak only of those who 
wrote before the promulgation of Christianity, as the silent in- 
fluence of this faith modified the opinions of many who did not 
avowedly embrace it. Cicero has little claim to originality in 
any of his philosophical speculations; and as, at different times, 



THE UNITY OF GOD. 401 

he argued with about equal warmth on both sides of the ques- 
tion respecting the existence of one God, it is not likely that he 
had formed any decided belief about it. 

Polytheism has no evidence or presumption in its favor. — It 
is matter of history, then, that a system of polytheism has never 
satisfied the requisitions of the cultivated and inquiring intel- 
lect ; failing to struggle up from it to clear ideas and firm con- 
victions respecting the unity of the Deity, the best minds, edu- 
cated under such a system, have fallen back upon a contemptu- 
ous estimate of the faith of the common people, and a general 
distrust of man's capacity to form a purer and better-grounded 
doctrine. It is unnecessary, therefore, to disprove polytheism, 
for there is no evidence or presumption in its favor. It is a 
popular prejudice, or a poetical fancy, — not an opinion resting 
upon argument, or a system devised after rational inquiry and 
upon philosophical principles. We have found proof, clear and 
abundant, of the existence of one God ; but we have no testi- 
mony, no intimations even, that there are many gods. The 
presumption is all the other way ; the whole course of the rea- 
soning going to show that there is one Supreme Being, Creator 
and Governor of all things. To assert the existence of others, 
is to deny his supremacy"; if polytheism be true, there are be- 
ings whom he did not create and does not govern. Indirectly, 
then, the whole argument that we have thus far considered, is 
an argument for the unity of the Deity ; since the conclusion to 
which it leads us, is directly opposed to polytheism. I do not 
say that it disproves the existence of an order of beings su- 
perior to the human, but still finite, created, and dependent. 
There may be such intermediate natures, though the universe 
to our eyes affords no trace of them, and the question whether 
they exist or not is one which it does not concern us to answer. 
By whatever name they may be designated, — angels, demons, 
or ministering spirits, — they are not deities ; that is, they are 
not uncreated, independent, and eternal. "It seems a self-evi- 
dent proposition, that the First Cause must be one ; because, if 
there were more, they would want some prior cause to assign 
them their several stations and properties." 

34* 



402 THE UNITY OF GOD. 

Argument for the unity of God. — The argument, if it can be 
called such, in favor of the unity of God, is usually stated thus : 
— If one cause is sufficient to account for all the phenomena, it 
is needless and unphilosophical to suppose that there are sev- 
eral causes. This is the only sort of proof that a negative 
proposition admits of ; and it is admitted to be satisfactory in 
physical and moral science, the study of which would otherwise 
be profitless and vain, as it could lead to no definite conclusion. 
Indirectly, however, we may substantiate the doctrine of the 
Divine unity, by pointing out the unity of design which prevails 
throughout the universe. This is a profitable inquiry, though 
its direct result is rather to establish the wisdom, than the sin- 
gleness, of the creative and governing Power. As it throws 
light, however, upon the character of the creation, and upon the 
nature of the Divine government, I shall devote to it what re- 
mains of the present chapter. 

What sort of effects imply unity of cause. — Objects and 
events are considered as simple or complex in more senses than 
one. If absolutely simple, — as, for instance, a clap of thunder, 
or the personality of one human being, — the propriety of as- 
signing but one cause to it is sufficiently evident. It is incon- 
ceivable, that many causes should cooperate for the production 
of one effect, which has no complexity of parts, and does not ad- 
mit of degrees. Many arms and levers may act together in 
turning over a heavy stone ; but the effect here is really com- 
plex, each lever actually raising some of the weight, in propor- 
tion to the power and effort expended upon it. But to call an 
absolutely indivisible atom or being out of nothingness, necessa- 
rily implies unity of cause ; for every exertion of power must 
produce some effect, and if two powers were exerted at the same 
instant, two effects, or an effect in some way complex, must be 
produced. The indivisible personality of one human being, 
then, proves to a demonstration, that the beginning of his ex- 
istence is an effect due to one creative Cause. If one man, 
therefore, formed the whole of creation, the unity of the Creator 
would be demonstrable. But this is not the case. 

Inference from unity of organization. — An object, however, 



THE UNITY OF GOD. 4.03 

mUy be considered as single in another sense. If it is not a 
mere aggregate of parts, but a system, in which the whole is the 
result of all the parts taken and acting together, there is a strong 
presumption, though not an absolute proof, that it is the effect 
of one cause. Such is every organism, — a plant, or a human 
body, for instance, — as distinguished from inorganic masses, 
like a rock, or a heap of sand. Here the probability is very 
great, though it does not amount to certainty, that one creative 
mind presided over the formation of this virtual whole. The 
organism is complex, indeed, for it is made up of many parts ; 
but as all these parts have an intimate connection with each 
other and with the whole, we presume that one mind must have 
planned the whole, and executed it, either directly by its own 
power, or mediately, through subordinate agents. It is hardly 
possible to conceive of two minds, or more, perfectly coinciding 
in their purposes and modes of execution : to our apprehension, 
at least, two such minds run together and make up one being, 
when there is no distinction of bodies to keep them apart. Two 
purely immaterial existences cannot be distinguished from each 
other, according to human conception, except by the difference 
of their purposes and acts ; and any such difference precludes 
the supposition of their cooperating with perfect equality in the 
formation of one of these virtual wholes. If their shares in 
the work were not absolutely equal, then one was superior to 
the other, and supremacy implies unity. This reasoning, chiefly 
directed against the hypothesis of two creators, applies a for- 
tiori to that of three or more. If to this strong presumption 
we add the fact, that we have abundant evidence of the being 
of one God, but not a shadow of proof that there is more than 
one, the doctrine of the Divine unity is established beyond all 
question. 

Creation everywhere evinces unity of design. — Is the universe, 
then, one of these virtual wholes ? Does it everywhere evince 
unity of design, and show such a correlation of parts, that the 
whole may properly be considered as an organism, or as the 
result of the parts, and not merely as their aggregate ? To give 
all the evidence for the affirmative of this question, would require 



404 THE UNITY OF GOD. 

an enumeration of particulars too copious for your time and 
patience ; but enough may be adduced here to leave no doubt 
upon the subject. 

The universe is composed of matter and mind, and it is in the 
close, but, as we believe, temporary, union of these component 
parts, and in their 'present mutual dependence and fitness for 
each other, that the more striking part of the proof consists. 
But we will look first at the material universe alone ; and in 
doing this, I must use, for brevity of speech, the common 
phraseology of physical science, though with the protest already 
expressed against the mechanical theory which it implies. Sup- 
ply the correction in every case, by substituting for supposed 
secondary causes, the immediate agency of the Divine mind, and 
the argument becomes all the stronger. 

The general laws of the physical universe evince the unity of 
their cause. — Consider, first, that the same physical laws, as 
wonderful for their simplicity as for the vastness of their sphere 
of operation, govern the motions and determine the state of all 
the particles and all the aggregations of matter which make up 
the solar and stellar systems. Through the principles of inertia 
and the equality of action and reaction, it is demonstrable, that, 
if 1 strike the ground with a hammer, the effect produced, small 
as it is, is propagated beyond the path of Neptune. It is the 
same law of gravity which guides the falling of a tear, and gov- 
erns the revolutions of the planets ; which binds the influences 
of the Pleiades, and loosens the bands of Orion. The simplicity 
of this law enables us to calculate its effects with so much pre- 
cision, that, notwithstanding the erratic path, as it appears to 
direct observation, which the planets describe in our sky, the 
astronomer turns his telescope with perfect confidence to a mere 
point in the heavens, where one of these bodies will be found at 
a given moment a century hence. It has been justly observed, 
that, but for this marvellous coincidence of observation with the 
calculated results, we should wholly distrust the assumed pre- 
cision and minuteness of our knowledge of bodies, which are 
seemingly so far removed from the sphere of human agency 
and research. Again, the light which streams from these re- 



THE UNITY OF GOD. 405 

mote orbs, is in all respects identical with that produced by 
artificial means to illumine our own dwellings ; it is diffused in 
the same manner, travels with the same speed, obeys the same 
laws of reflection and refraction, and the experiments made in 
one are repeated with unerring precision in the other. If we 
extend our view over vast tracts of time, as well as space, the 
operations of nature still appear uniform, exact, and unchange- 
able ; the same laws hold.* The astronomer calculates and 
verifies the observations made by the shepherds on the plains 
of Chaldaea, and the eclipses that were noted in China at the 
distant period when that empire seems to have excelled all other 
nations of the earth in physical science. 

If we come down to the properties and internal constitution 
of the various substances with which we are surrounded, to the 



* The eyes of the Trilobites of the transition rocks, says Dr. Buckland, 
" give information regarding the condition of the ancient sea and ancient 
atmosphere, and the relation of both these media to light, at the remote 
period when the earliest marine animals were furnished with instruments 
of vision, in which the minute optical adaptations were the same that im- 
part the perception of light to Crustaceans now living at the bottom of 
the sea. 

" With respect to the waters wherein the Trilobites maintained their ex- 
istence throughout the entire period of the transition formation, we con- 
clude that they could not have been that imaginary turbid and compound 
chaotic fluid, from the precipitates of which some geologists have supposed 
the materials of the surface of the earth to be derived ; because the struc- 
ture of the eyes of these animals is such, that any kind of fluid at the 
bottom of which these eyes could have been sufficient, must have been 
pure and transparent enough to allow the passage of light to organs of 
vision, the nature of which is so fully disclosed by the state of perfection in 
which they are preserved. With regard to the atmosphere, also, we infer 
that, had it differed materially from its actual condition, it might have so 
far affected the rays of light, that a corresponding difference from the eyes 
of existing Crustaceans would have been found in the organs on which the 
impressions of such rays were then received. 

" Regarding light itself, also, we learn, from the resemblance of these 
most ancient organizations to existing eyes, that the mutual relations of 
light to the eye, and of the eye to light, were the same at the time when 
Crustaceans, endowed with the faculty of vision, were first placed at the 
bottom of the primeval seas, as at the present moment." 



406 THE UNITY OF GOD. 

rocks, the metals, the salts, and the earths, which form the crust 
of our globe, we find a similar unity of plan and the same pre- 
dominance of a few fixed laws. "All things in the universe," 
says Hume himself, the chief of modern skeptics, " all things are 
evidently of a piece. Every thing is adjusted to every thing. 
One design prevails through the whole." Cohesive attraction 
binds the particles of all bodies together, their chemical ele- 
ments unite in the same proportions, and- the numbers which 
express these proportions are combined in constant ratios, so 
that the results of chemical analysis are now recorded by a uni- 
versally applicable scheme of algebraic notation. It is quite 
probable, that, before long, chemistry will attain the rank of an 
exact science. The simple bodies retain their properties all 
over the globe ; one -lump of a metal or an earth is always a 
perfect specimen of the rest, though found in opposite hemi- 
spheres. The specific gravity, determined to the thousandth 
part of a grain, is a perfect test of the purity of gold, whether it 
is brought from Peru or the Ural Mountains. The elements of 
pure water, the constituents of the atmosphere, are the same, 
and are combined in precisely the same proportions, wherever 
water flows, or the air penetrates. 

Unity of plan in the animal kingdom. — The organic king- 
doms show a still ' more marvellous unity of plan, and a nicer 
adaptation to each other and to the inorganic world. The 
chemistry here is more intricate, but it is still uniform ; and its 
complexity arises from the great variety of purposes which 
organism is designed to answer, and from the numberless rela- 
tions which bind each to each throughout the animal and vege- 
table creations.* Remembering how the same general type of 
the skeleton is preserved throughout the vertebrate branch, 

* " It was a great discovery in physiology, when it was ascertained that 
all vertebrata, that fishes, as well as reptiles, as well as birds, as well as 
mammalia, arose from eggs, which have one and the same uniform struc- 
ture in the beginning, and proceed to produce animals, as widely different 
as they are in their full-grown state, simply by successive gradual meta- 
morphoses ; and these metamorphoses upon one and the same plan, accord- 
ing to one and the same general process." — Agassiz. 



THE UNITY OF GOD. 407 

amidst numberless modifications of the size and shape of all its 
parts, so that each animal might be fitted for the exigencies of 
its peculiar situation and the part it has to play, — believe, if 
you can, that one mind did not preside over the formation of all 
the species, and adapt each to its place in one vast system. 
The laws of birth, growth, and reproduction have the same 
general character for all, and varieties suited to each ; the pro- 
gressive development of creatures that are so low down in the 
scale even as the mollusca, throws light upon the embryotic 
changes of the most perfect animal organism.* If we go back 
to the extinct races of the oldest geological periods, so far from 
finding that another general scheme then prevailed, we seem to 
witness the historical development of one and the same plan ; 
the fossil varieties fill up some gaps that appear in the scale as 
it exists at present, and the order in which the several new cre- 
ations appeared, shows with what facility the plan was adapted 
to the greatest variety of circumstances. Indeed, the whole 
science of zoology, with the light that it has received from re- 
cent investigations, is a most instructive commentary upon the 
doctrine of the unity of God. 

Animals and vegetables and the atmosphere work together in 
one system. — Extending our view to the vegetable creation, 
and to the relations which connect it with the animal kingdom, 



* " To study the phenomena manifested by a single individual, would 
give us an idea of the organic world as imperfect as that which an astron- 
omer would obtain of the sidereal system, by studying the motions and 
phenomena of a single planet. It is not true that there exists, strictly 
speaking, a physiology, as of man, peculiar to a single being. Examine 
any organ, and the processes of which it is the seat, in a given animal ; then 
refer to any other being in the animal series, and you will generally find 
the organ and its processes repeated. Examine the process of respiration, 
as it exists in men and in those animals nearly allied to him, and it will be 
seen, that, so far as regards the essential process, it is one and the same in 
all, though the manner in which it is carried out may vary to a consider- 
able degree in the different races. By the researches of the comparative 
physiologist, it has been shown that the animal kingdom is subdivided into 
certain great groups, and that all the members of those groups are con- 
structed on one and the same plan." — Jeffries Wyman. 



408 THE UNITY OF GOD. 

we obtain fresh and beautiful illustrations of the same great 
truth. The two kingdoms are essential to each other's existence, 
both entering into the circuit through which inorganic matter 
passes, sustaining organic life on its way, and then returning to 
its primitive or elementary state. " While animals," says the 
most eminent botanist of this country, Dr. A. Gray, " consume 
the oxygen of the air, and give back carbonic acid, which is in- 
jurious to their life, this carbonic acid is the principal element 
of the food of vegetables, is consumed and decomposed by them, 
and its oxygen restored for the use of animals. Hence the per- 
fect adaptation of the two great kingdoms of living beings to 
each other ; — each removing from the atmosphere what would 
be noxious to the other ; — each yielding to the atmosphere 
what is essential to the continual existence of the other." And 
further, — " Animals consume what vegetables produce. They 
themselves produce nothing directly from the mineral world. 
The herbiverous animals take from vegetables the organized 
matter which they have produced ; — a part of it they consume, 
and in respiration restore the materials to the atmosphere, from 
which plants derived them, in the very form in which they were 
taken, namely, as carbonic acid and water. The portion they 
accumulate in their tissues constitutes the food of carnivorous 
animals, who consume and return to the air the greater part 
during life, and the remainder in decay, after death. The at- 
mosphere, therefore, out of which plants create nourishment, 
and to which animals, as they consume, return it, forms the nec- 
essary link between the animal and vegetable kingdoms, and 
thus completes the great cycle of organic existence. Organized 
matter passes through various stages in vegetables, is raised to 
higher conditions in the herbiverous animals, undergoes its final 
transformations in the carnivorous animals. Portions are con- 
sumed at every stage, and, leaving the ascending current, fall 
back to the mineral kingdom, to which the whole, having accom- 
plished its revolutions, finally returns." 

We are accustomed to consider the unity of organization of 
a single plant or animal, — to trace the relation, for instance, 
of digestion to the supply of blood or nutritive fluid, or respira- 



THE UNITY OF GOD. 



409 



tion to the purifying of this fluid, and of its circulation to the 
nutrition of every part of the body, as well as the fitness of the 
vessels, conduits, and other means provided for carrying on this 
round of operations, the growth and continued existence of one 
particular organism being the combined result. But does not 
this grand circuit of animate and inanimate nature, this mutual 
dependence of the atmosphere, in regard to its purity, and of 
all animal and vegetable life, point out with equal clearness the 
unity of organization of the universe, and cause us to regard the 
whole as one vast apparatus, from which no single organ or 
portion could be taken away without vitiating the result, and 
reducing the entire fabric to a chaos ? 

" All are but parts of one stupendous whole, 
Whose body nature is, and God the soul." 

The progress of science constantly finds new proofs of unity 
of design. — Consider, also, that the discovery or generalization 
of these facts, which throw so much light upon the unity of plan 
in the creation, is among the latest triumphs of science ; — and 
what may we not expect from the future progress of discovery, 
as tending to reveal to our eyes in full, what as yet we see but 
imperfectly, that there is not a stone or a clod of earth in the 
crust of our globe, nor one of the shining points which dot in 
myriads our nightly sky, that does not play an essential part in 
the working of the universal organism, the most intimate rela- 
tions binding it alike to what is nearest and what is most re- 
mote ? It was on some small, and seemingly irregular and pur- 
poseless, features in the arrangement of the planetary orbits 
around our sun, namely, upon the eccentricities of those orbits, 
that Laplace founded the sublime calculations which demon- 
strated the stability of the system. What are now called the 
" secular variations," because, after a long lapse of years, they 
begin to retrace their steps, as it were, and thus compensate the 
disturbance that had gone on increasing during that period, 
were formerly regarded as disturbing causes that would operate 
for ever in the same direction, so that they were proceeding 
slowly, but inevitably, to make shipwreck of the whole plan. 

35 



410 THE UNITY OF GOD. 

Laplace proved that they were cycles, and therefore that they 
should be ranked highest among those periodic revolutions 
which are so frequent in the economy of nature ; instead of 
tending to destroy, they guaranty the permanency of the system. 
When but a few more such steps have been taken in the career 
of discovery, we shall see unity of organization in the universe, 
as clearly as we now do in the human body. 

Plants and animals formed on one plan. — Coming back, in 
some measure, to details, it is remarkable that we can trace 
similarity of structure and function in cases apparently removed 
from each other by so wide an interval, that we should not have 
expected any resemblance whatever, except from the general 
consideration, that order and harmony must characterize all the 
works of infinite wisdom. For instance, how unlike, at the first 
glance, appear plants and animals, and how dissimilar their 
offices, though each kingdom, as we have seen, is necessary to 
the other, and the two play an equally important part in the 
accomplishment of the universal design ! Yet it is not more 
certain, that the rudiments of the human skeleton, as they may 
be figuratively called, can be traced in the bones of one of the 
lowest fishes, than that the plant is, so to speak, a rudimentary 
animal. The functions of digestion, assimilation, circulation, 
nutrition, and respiration, for example, are common to the two ; 
the distinction of sex belongs to both, and the means of repro- 
duction are strikingly similar. And, generally, the botanist will 
tell you, between the organs which serve corresponding pur- 
poses in the two kingdoms, very obvious resemblances exist. 
Nature seems for ever at work upon the same general pattern ; 
she is haunted, as it were, by one idea ; and hi out-of-the-way 
corners of creation, whither we had wandered in search of nov- 
elty, we are startled by the spectral reappearance of the old 
familiar face.* 



* " These general views/' says Prof. Sedgwick, " help us also to explain 
and rationalize certain well-known phenomena, snch as abortive or rudi- 
mentary organs ; [the existence of the mammary gland in man, for exam- 
ple. Blumenbach says, there are not wanting instances in which milk has 



THE UNITY OF GOD. 411 

Mr. Stewart speaks of " the effects which philosophical habits 
and scientific pursuits have in familiarizing the mind to the 
order of nature, and in improving its penetration and sagacity 
in anticipating those parts of it which are yet unknown. A 
man conversant with the phenomena of physics and chemistry, 
is much more likely than a stranger to these studies to form 
probable conjectures concerning those laws of nature which still 
remain to be examined. There is a certain style, (if I may use 
the expression,) in the operations of the Great Author of all 
things, — something which everywhere announces, amidst a 
boundless variety of detail, an inimitable unity and harmony of 
design, and in the perception of which, what we commonly call 
philosophical sagacity seems chiefly to consist. It is this which 
bestows an inestimable value on the conjectures and queries of 
such a philosopher as Sir Isaac Newton." 

Exact balance of cooperating agents. — I have but one other 
remark to make, in this connection, respecting the scheme of the 
material universe, — which is, that the proportions of the ani- 
mal and vegetable kingdoms, and the constituents of the atmos- 
phere to each other, were not always the same as they exist at 
present. There was a time, so geology tells us, when the air 
was greatly overcharged with carbonic acid, and thus unfitted 
for the support of animal life. Accordingly, plants were then 
almost the sole representatives of organic nature, and their con- 
tinuous operation through many ages gradually purified the at- 
mosphere till animals could live in it. Animals were then 
introduced, by their consumption of oxygen, and by rendering 
it back united with carbon, to serve as an offset for the action 



been secreted from the breasts of men and other male animals.] These 
organs may have a muscular use which, in some cases, we do not compre- 
hend. However this may be, they form a part, and an essential part, of 
a great scheme ; and they help us to understand the pattern of nature's 
workmanship. One use, at least, they have ; they tend to complete the 
order and plan of nature ; and this, moreover, we may venture to affirm, 
that the Author of Nature manifests, in examples without number, a love 
of order, and harmony, and beauty, which is altogether independent of 
our conceptions of mere vulgar use." 



412 THE UNITY OF GOD. 

of vegetables, and to prevent the stock upon which the latter 
live from being eventually exhausted. The present exact bal- 
ance between the wants and the products of the cooperating 
agents in nature is the result of one great scheme, which has 
come gradually to perfection, — thus leading us to infer, that one 
mind not only presides over the system now, but has watched 
and guided it through the several stages of its growth, the com- 
mencement of which dates far back in eternity. 

Unity of plan in the relations of mind to matter. — If there 
remains comparatively little to say on the unity of plan that is 
evinced in the constitution of mind, and in the adaptation of the 
intellectual and moral to the material universe, it is because 
most of the important facts have been already mentioned in 
connection with other parts of our subject. Thus, I have dwelt 
at length upon the general laws which uphold and constitute 
external nature, considered as the necessary means through 
which reason and freewill are enabled to rival the works of in- 
stinct. Looking at the body, also, in its true light, as really 
external and foreign to the mind which inhabits it for a season, 
the laws of bodily health and disease, as formerly remarked, are 
among the strongest safeguards of morals. The organs of sense 
form the direct avenues of communication between the outer and 
the inner world, and in their curious and delicate structure are 
found the most striking tokens of infinite wisdom, adapting the 
same general plan to a great variety of purposes and circum- 
stances. Man does not find himself a stranger upon the earth, 
though he is the latest comer ; he enters a dwelling fitted and 
garnished for his reception, and yet taxing his faculties to the 
utmost, before he can ascertain and apply to use all its accom- 
modations and contrivances. Or rather, to change the figure, 
he is admitted to a school, where the means and the stimuli of 
education are furnished in great abundance, together with a 
bountiful provision for his mere enjoyment. 

Cooperation of the eye and the mind in vision. — Even his 
senses must be educated before they can do their appropriate 
work. His first and most important step in knowledge, as has 
been before observed, is to learn to see. The eye is sensible to 



THE UNITY OF GOD. 413 

the impulse of light, and the complex structure of this organ is 
adapted with the utmost nicety to the laws of refraction. Thus 
far, however, provision is made only for painting on the retina 
a very accurate picture, though on a much reduced scale, of 
external objects. The mind now must do its part in projecting 
off this picture, as it were, in referring these impressions to 
their outward cause, and in making the mere bodily sensation to 
be the type and material of knowledge, — the basis of percep- 
tion of surrounding things. The sensation alone can teach us 
nothing as to the distance, magnitude, or even the externality 
of material objects ; nor does instinct, as in the case of animals, 
supply the deficiency. Slowly the mind learns to refer the sign 
to the thing signified, and to spell out the world of knowledge 
which at first lies hidden in the hieroglyphic language of mere 
visual impressions. And when the organ is fully educated, how 
quick and various is the information that it gives ! The travel- 
ler arrives at the crest of a hill, which commands a full prospect 
of a renowned city that he had never before seen, together with 
a long reach of the beautiful valley in which it lies. In a mo- 
ment, his eye takes in the extended and widely diversified 
scene, — the maze of houses and streets, the projecting spires 
and towers, the swelling dome of the cathedral, the variegated 
tints of roofs and walls, the tufted tops of trees rising here and 
there at irregular intervals, the river winding through the vale ; 
and a tolerably correct estimate of the size, distance, and rela- 
tive position of these objects is so quickly formed, that it seems 
a part of the picture. It is marvellous that so great an acces- 
sion to our knowledge, so large a stock of new and interesting 
perceptions, should be gained in an instant of time. 

The senses proportioned to the wants and occasions of man. — 
Here, then, in the most familiar of all cases, body and mind 
cooperate so perfectly, and the adaptation of both to the wants 
of man, considered as an inhabitant of the material universe, is 
so complete, that we cannot avoid referring all the parts of the 
complex contrivance to one Author. Our admiration of the 
design is enhanced when we reflect, that the organ of sight is 
entirely formed at a period when no communication exists 

35* 



414 THE UNITY OF GOD. 

between it and that element to which every portion of it has so 
manifest a reference. The scheme of education, of self-im- 
provement, with its obvious moral bearings, which we have seen 
to be the chief purpose of our being here below, is here visibly 
kept in view in the earliest physical arrangements that are made 
for our security and happiness upon earth. In other respects, 
the adaptation of the organ to man's physical wants, and to the 
formation of his character, is hardly less remarkable. " If, by 
the help of microscopical eyes," says Locke, "a man should 
penetrate further than ordinary into the secret composition and 
radical texture of bodies, he would not make any great advan- 
tage by the change, if such an acute sight would not serve to 
conduct him to the market and exchange, if he could not see 
things he was to avoid at a convenient distance, or distinguish 
things he had to do with, by those sensible qualities others do. 
He that was sharp-sighted enough to see the configuration of 
the minute particles of the spring of a clock, and observe on 
what peculiar structure and impulse its elastic motion depends, 
would no doubt discover something very admirable ; but if eyes 
so iramed could not view at once the hand and the characters 
of the hour-plate, and thereby discover at a distance what 
o'clock it was, their owner could not be much benefited by that 
acuteness, which, whilst it discovered the secret contrivance of 
the parts of the machine, made him lose its use." 

Our mental constitution fitted to the material universe. — 
It would be easy to follow out this line of argument in regard 
to the other senses, and the several remaining points in the 
physical organization of man, and show how he is fitted in all 
respects to the scale of the world in which he dwells, and to the 
objects by which he is surrounded. " No other cause," says an 
eminent naturalist, " can be assigned why a man was not made 
five or ten times bigger, but his relation to the rest of the uni- 
verse." The law of the association of ideas, which is the regu- 
lative principle of memory, corresponds so exactly with the uni- 
form succession of cause and effect, which is the regulative prin- 
ciple of the universe, that no one can doubt that the one was 
specially designed to be the complement of the other. The 



THE UNITY OF GOD. 415 

child associates the idea of burning with that of the fire, and 
every pleasant or painful feeling reminds him of the occasion 
when it was first excited ; on these connections of thought, the 
whole value of experience depends. If memory acted disor- 
derly, the effect, for all practical purposes, would be the same 
as if events succeeded each other at random, and not in an 
unchangeable sequence. Before the past can be a safe guide as 
to the future, it is necessary, not only that the same effect should 
always follow the same cause, but also that the sight of the cause 
should always and instantly remind us of what is sure to suc- 
ceed. In this respect, as in many others, the mind is a micro- 
cosm ; it mirrors to us those aspects of external nature which 
are most necessary to be presented for the safety of the individ- 
ual. The law of causation is also the law of memory.* 

Uniformity of human nature. — A still more pleasing proof 
of uniformity of design may be found in the preservation of 
the common type of humanity among all nations, and in all 
ages of the world. Make out the difference as wide as you 
can between the savage and the civilized man, yet it is as 
nothing when compared with the interval which lies between 
the savage and the brute. This interval is constant. Exhaust 
all the means and artifices of instruction upon one of the 



* The uniformity in the instincts of brutes, moreover, as Dugald Stewart 
has observed, presupposes a corresponding regularity in the phenomena of 
the material universe ; " insomuch that, if the established order of the 
material world were to be essentially disturbed, (the instincts of the brutes 
remaining the same,) all their various tribes would inevitably perish. The 
uniformity of animal instinct, therefore, bears a reference to the constancy 
and immutability of physical laws, not less manifest than that of the fin 
of the fish to the properties of water, or of the wing of the bird to those of 
the atmosphere." " Through this uniformity in their instincts, also, man 
can better maintain his empire over them, and employ them to greater ad- 
vantage as means or instruments for accomplishing his purposes. The 
instincts, as we have seen, allow some latitude of action, so that the brutes 
can accommodate themselves, in a small degree, to the ordinary vicissi- 
tudes of their condition ; and thus they are incomparably more serviceable 
to man than they would have been, if, like brute matter, they were always 
subjected to regular and assignable causes." 



416 THE UNITY OF GOD. 

lower animals, and he never even approaches the boundary 
line of humanity. On the other hand, all projects for re- 
claiming the criminal or the savage, go upon the supposition 
that he is a human being, like ourselves, — that he is moved 
by the same desires, agitated by the same passions, and has 
faculties which, though latent now, are capable of as high de- 
velopment. We instinctively recognize this common human- 
ity, and act upon it ; the taking of human life is everywhere 
viewed as a grave and awful deed, to be justified only by 
pressing necessity; while mere animal existence is sacrificed 
without a touch of remorse. Persons of delicate feelings, in- 
deed, may shrink from the work; but their repugnance is 
founded mainly on an amiable illusion, which invests the dumb 
creature — a favorite domestic animal, perhaps — with some of 
the attributes of humanity. The individuals who make up the 
race are constantly changing ; one generation succeeds another, 
and, at the close of a century, hardly one human being survives 
who was alive at its commencement. But the unchanging 
characteristics, the type, of the species, survive all mutations, 
and the subject of history is still the same. In every age and 
every country, the great features of humanity appear as stead- 
fast as if they were engraved in marble. " It is this," says an 
eminent writer, " which gives the great charm to what we call 
nature in epic and dramatic compositions ; when the poet speaks 
a language to which every heart is an echo, and which, amidst 
all the effects of education and fashion in modifying and dis- 
guising the principles of our constitution, reminds all the 
various classes of readers or spectators of the existence of those 
moral ties which unite us to each other and to our common 
Parent." 

Result of the discussion. — The facts upon which I have 
dwelt in this chapter are sufficiently familiar ; and it is true of 
all of them, that they suggest, rather than prove, the great doc- 
trine of the unity of God. The truth of this doctrine is suffi- 
ciently established, as was remarked in the outset, by the ab- 
sence of all evidence to the contrary. "We have abundant 
testimony that one Goal exists ; we have not even an intimation 



THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 417 

that there is more than one ; and this is enough. I have sought 
to show, however, that this truth, like the other doctrines of 
natural theology, is continually suggested to us by a study of 
the universe in which we live, and of which we form a part. 
In the unity of our own life and consciousness, we find reflected 
the unity of Him from whom we derived our being. " Every 
man, a single, active, conscious self, is the image of his Maker. 
There is in him one undivided animating principle, which, in its 
perceptions and operations, runs through the whole system of 
matter that it inhabits ; it perceives for the most distant parts 
of the body ; it cares for all and governs all ; — thus leading us, 
by analogy, to form an idea of the one great quickening Spirit 
which presides over the whole frame of nature, the spring of all 
motion and operation in it, understanding and active in all parts 
of the universe, — not as its soul, indeed, but as its Lord, — by 
whose vital directing influence it is, though so vast a bulk and 
consisting of so many parts, united into one regular fabric." 



CHAPTER IX. 

THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL CANNOT BE PROVED 
WITHOUT THE AID OF REVELATION. 

Summary of the last chapter. — Polytheism, it was remarked 
in the last chapter, is the religion of a barbarous age, and of the 
uncultivated understanding. It is the natural product of the 
religious sentiment before the reasoning power is developed, or 
the mind informed by reflection and careful study of the phe- 
nomena of the physical and moral universe. I do not say that 
polytheism is a natural form of religion, because I do not be- 
lieve that barbarism and ignorance are natural to man. The 



y 



£--/ 



418 THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 

great purpose of our being, as I have attempted to show, is self- 
improvement in the largest sense, — is moral, intellectual, and 
religious progress achieved by our own efforts ; and we are in 
our natural condition only when we are active in that work. 
Barbarism is no otherwise natural to the human race than in- 
fancy is ; it is a point of departure, a commencement of growth. 
The religious sentiment of an uncivilized people first manifests 
itself in idolatry, — that is, in a worship of false gods, or a sys- 
tem of polytheism. History and the reports of travellers inform 
us, that this is the universal faith of savage tribes. A few 
minds, far in advance of the others in refinement and habits of 
reflection, may throw off this belief of the populace ; but they 
usually take refuge from it in general skepticism or fanciful 
speculation, rather than in pure theism. It is of no more use, 
then, to disprove polytheism than to argue against barbarism ; 
that cannot be disproved which does not rest upon argument or 
conviction, and which is not so much an opinion or belief, as a 
popular delusion, the origin or natural history of which is dis- 
tinctly traceable. 

There is no need, then, I remarked, to prove the unity of the 
Deity, because nothing can be alleged against it ; and having 
found one cause that accounts for all the phenomena, it is a 
wholly gratuitous hypothesis to suppose that there are other 
causes. Still, a study of God's works in various ways indicates 
or suggests the unity of their Author, and I briefly reviewed 
some of these indications. The universe, I endeavored to show, 
is an organism, all its parts being essential to the perfection #f 
the whole. The same laws prevail throughout its immeasu- 
rable extent, governing alike the least events and the greatest. 
Light, gravitation, electricity, chemical affinity, and the like, are 
universally operating agents, that bind all the parts of the vast 
system together. Organized life, whether animal or vegetable, 
is cast in the same general mould, the great features of one plan 
being preserved throughout, though with numberless modifica- 
tions to adapt it to particular cases. The boundary lines of the 
species are immovable, the type of each race being preserved 
through countless generations. Plants and animals resemble 



THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 419 

<j*ich other in their organs and functions, and, in connection 
with the atmosphere, form a great circuit through which matter 
is continually passing, alternately in an organic and an inorganic 
state. All these physical laws and agencies can be traced up 
to their ultimate purpose, in the education of mind and the for- 
mation of character ; thus the universe of matter and mind con- 
stitutes one whole, all the parts working to one great end, so 
that we are unavoidably guided to the conclusion, that it has but 
one Author, Designer, and Sovereign. 

The 'proof of the other attributes of God, to the full extent 
that is needed for religious faith and practice, follows immedi- 
ately from the doctrines that have already been established. 
He is omnipresent and omniscient, who not only designed and 
created, but directs and governs, all. His power and wisdom 
are commensurate with his works ; and as those works consti- 
tute but one system, and are directed to one end, every portion 
of it, however minute, is essential to its perfection and con- 
tinuance, and therefore cannot have escaped his oversight and 
control. The sphere of his existence is certainly coextensive 
with the sphere of his operation ; and this, in our ignorance of 
the true relation of pure mind to space, is the only conception 
that we can form of universal presence. Whether this ubiquity, 
in the language of the schools, be virtual or essential, those can 
judge who can best determine whether the human agent, the 
indivisible unit of personality, is directly or mediately present 
through the whole of the complex structure of bones and mus- 
cles which it inhabits, and with every portion of which it cer- 
tainly exists in intimate union. The question is one purely of 
curiosity or mere speculation ; the attribute is made known to 
us as real to the full extent to which we are able to form a con- 
ception of it. There is little use in being able to demonstrate 
the reality of what is inconceivable. 

The duration of the Deity is infinite, since the argument 
adopted does not stop short of the First Cause, and that which 
is uncaused must have existed from everlasting. Moreover, 
that which is ingenerable must also be incorruptible ; for there 
cannot have been originally any cause of dissolution from with- 



420 THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 

out, and any inherent principles of decay and ruin must have 
manifested themselves during an infinite series of years. If 
they have not done so in the infinite duration that is past, it is 
a proof that they do not exist, and that there are none to operate 
in all future time. Again, as the agency of the Supreme Being 
throughout his physical creation is immediate, his moral govern- 
ment is also immediate. The whole series of arrangements and 
events by which his law is made known to man, and is upheld 
by the ordinary course of human affairs, is the direct conse- 
quence of his presence and action. The uniformity of this 
action is a proof of his wisdom and the unchangeable character 
of his purposes ; but it is no proof that his government is 
exerted through agencies or means which are left to operate of 
themselves, without his constant supervision and power. The 
complete recognition of this great truth, the immediate and uni- 
versal government of God, is the vital principle of all religion, 
the sustaining belief without which true piety cannot exist. 

The infinity of the Divine Attributes considered. — I am 
aware of the common objection to the reasoning which has here 
been pursued, that human experience, arguing from a limited 
number of effects, can only establish the existence of a cause 
proportionate to them, — or that the infinite power and wisdom 
of the Deity cannot be inferred directly from the finite evi- 
dences, which alone are subject to our observation. The im- 
portance of this objection will depend upon the meaning we 
attach to the word infinite. It is commonly said to imply, in 
regard to the Deity, not merely that his power and wisdom are « 
" beyond all comparison greater than any such qualities pos- 
sessed by ourselves," but that these attributes exist " in such a 
degree, that any extent whatever of them being either presented 
to our observation or conceived by our imagination, the Deity 
possesses them in a still greater degree, — a degree to which 
our conception can afiix no bounds." Now, of course, we cannot 
demonstrate a fact which is inconceivable, any more than we 
can prove a proposition which is unintelligible ; so far as the 
infinity of God cannot be comprehended or understood by the 
human mind, so far is it removed from the sphere of all argu- 



THE IMMORTALITY- OF THE SOUL. 421 

ment. Our only understanding of an infinite quality is that of 
one which has no limits or restraint, — nothing to prevent it from, 
existing to an indefinite extent or perfection. In this sense, the 
infinity of the Divine attributes does admit of full proof. The 
universe, indeed, is finite, in respect both to space and time ; but 
it comprehends all that is, its Creator and Ruler alone excepted. 
The universe, then, being subject to him, as his creature or the 
work of his hands, there is nothing beyond it to limit his per- 
fections ; no restraint, no bound, therefore, is possible. Or the 
same reasoning may be proposed in another form : — from the 
unity and infinite duration of the Supreme Being, it follows, 
that a time must have been when he was literally all in all ; 
every thing that now exists is derived from him, or was made 
by him, and he must have existed before any thing was made. 
Then he must have been infinite, as nothing existed to set 
bounds to his attributes ; and what has been created since cannot 
limit them, as otherwise the creature would be more perfect 
than the Creator. 

What doctrines properly belong to Natural Religion. — I have 
now finished all that it seems appropriate on the present occasion 
to say respecting those doctrines of Natural Religion which rest 
upon full and satisfactory evidence, and so cannot be called in 
question without impeaching the validity of the ordinary laws 
of belief, and denying the capacity of man to obtain a knowl- 
edge of any facts that lie beyond the immediate cognizance of 
the senses. Many will think that I have attempted both too 
much and too little ; — too much, because I have tried to prove, 
from the light of reason and nature alone, that the moral and 
physical government of the Deity is immediate and incessant, 
every event, even the minutest, being directly caused by him 
with a view to the moral and religious improvement of man ; 
and too little, because I have omitted all argument for the im- 
mortality of the soul, and have not considered it necessary, in 
order to vindicate the justice and goodness of God, to represent 
our present existence only as a preparation for a life beyond the 
grave, or to maintain that the scheme of Providence which is 
now visible to us, is but a faint and imperfect image of a more 

3G 



422 THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 

glorious one, which is to be unfolded in some subsequent stage 
of our being. As to the former objection, I need not recapitu- 
late the argument that has been laid before you, and which is 
satisfactory to my own mind, in favor of the immediate agency 
and perfect moral government of God. As to the latter, I hold 
that the doctrine of the immortality of the soul cannot be proved 
from the light of nature, — that there is, indeed, no presumption 
against it, but nothing conclusive or reasonably satisfactory in its 
favor, — that men never have attained to a full belief in it ex- 
cept by direct aid from on high, — and that all proper faith in 
the doctrine rests upon revelation alone. 

Insufficiency of the argument from the light of nature illus- 
trated. — The only evidence of a future life which the unassisted 
reason can furnish, is of the same kind, and has about equal 
force, with the argument that is commonly offered, I will not say 
to prove, but to show that it is not unlikely, that the other 
planets and satellites of our system are tenanted by human 
beings like ourselves. Certainly we cannot disprove this hy- 
pothesis, and I do not think that there is any strong presumption 
against it. Why should the third attendant orb, counting from 
our sun, be fully stocked with animal and vegetable life, while 
the second and the fourth are left desolate, answering no other 
purpose known to us but that of preserving the balance of the 
system, and of appearing as shining points in our firmament ? 
The only rational answer to this question is, that we do not know. 
The subject lies as much beyond the reach of our faculties, as 
the bodies themselves do beyond the cognizance of our senses. 
The impossibility of disproving the conjecture that these orbs 
are inhabited, proceeds from the same cause as the difficulty of 
substantiating it, — namely, that we have no facts to reason 
about, no knowledge of the circumstances of the case. 

Persons who are fond of pure speculation and hypothesis are 
very apt to confound what may be, for aught we know to the 
contrary, with what is, so far as we are able positively to deter- 
mine it from our present means of observation and experiment ; 
they mistake the possibility that is measured only by human 
ignorance, for the probability that is fairly inferred by the legiti- 



THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 423 

mate exercise of the understanding. But we cannot found 
knowledge upon ignorance ; and the theorist who has had no 
experience under the conditions of his theory, and has no 
proper knowledge of the subjects to which it relates, necessarily 
speaks from ignorance and appeals to ignorance, — so that, even 
if we could not point out a single difficulty, a single false 
assumption, in his whole scheme and argument, it would still 
remain a mere hypothesis, alike incapable of proof and disproof. 
The fallacy to which such speculatists have recourse, is, that the 
weakness or the absence of any considerations against their 
theory constitutes a positive argument in its support. No such 
thing ; it affords only a fair presumption of the baseless char- 
acter of the whole fabric. We cannot prove a negative ; we 
can show only the insufficiency of the ground on which an 
assumption is made to rest. " So far as nature is concerned," 
says Prof. Sedgwick, " philosophy has nothing to do with what 
may be, but with what is." 

The argument for more worlds than one compared with the 
argument for the immortality of the soul. — Coming back for a 
while to the hypothesis of inhabited planets, it may be remarked, 
that the common argument in its favor is founded, first, upon 
the impossibility of seeing or proving that they are not inhab- 
ited ; secondly, upon the analogy between their situation and 
circumstances, and those of our own globe ; and thirdly, upon 
the assumed fact, that it is inconsistent with what we know of 
the character and purposes of the Deity, to suppose that he 
would leave such large orbs tenantless. Change only a few 
names of things in this description, and it becomes a very exact 
analysis of the ordinary reasoning, from the light of nature, to 
prove the immortality of the soul. This argument rests, first, 
upon the impossibility of seeing or proving that what we call 
death, is the absolute termination of our personal existence ; 
secondly, upon the analogy between the transformation which 
takes place at the close of the embryotic period, (which is a stage 
in all animal life, our own included,) and the transformation 
which we may suppose to occur at death ; and thirdly, upon the 
assumption, that the course of affairs in this life, the prevalence 



424 THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 

of sin and suffering, and the promiscuous distribution of happi- 
ness, are inconsistent with our notions of the character of the 
Supreme Being, are irreconcilable with Divine wisdom, justice, 
and love, — so that we must suppose a future state of existence, 
to give opportunity for redress, for completion, and for retri- 
bution. 

The reasoning is both unsound and presumptuous. — I may here 
remark, that it is the offensive, and, as I think, groundless, nature 
of this last argument, which makes one feel less scrupulous 
about exposing the fallacy of the whole reasoning. Those who 
have labored most earnestly to establish, independently of Rev- 
elation, the doctrine of a future life, have unwittingly decried 
and calumniated the course of Providence in the government 
of this world's affairs. That there is some danger in pressing 
such considerations, has been shown by Mr. Hume, who argues 
with much plausibility, " that the only safe principle, on which 
we can pretend to judge of those parts of the universe which 
have not fallen under our examination, is by concluding them 
to be analogous to what we have observed. 

■ Of God above or man below, 
What can we reason but from what we know 1 ' 

Now, the only fact we know with respect to the moral govern- 
ment of God is, that the distribution of happiness and misery in 
human life is in a great measure promiscuous. Is it not, then, 
a most extraordinary inference from this fact, to conclude that 
there must be a future state of existence to correct the inequal- 
ities of the present scene ? "Would it not be more reasonable, 
and more agreeable to the received rules of philosophizing, to 
conclude, either that the idea of a future state is a mere chimera, 
or that, if such an idea shall ever be realized, the distribution 
of happiness and misery will continue to be as promiscuous as 
we have experienced it to be ? " 

The same kind of conclusion obtained in the two cases. — Re- 
turning to the comparison, we may observe, that as the reason- 
ing in the two cases is parallel and of the same intrinsic weight, 
it might be expected that we should arrive at the same sort of 



THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 425 



conclusion. All will admit, that it is not impossible that the 
planets should be inhabited ; some will think that the balance of 
probability, on the whole, inclines in favor of the hypothesis. 
But no one, certainly, will place this hypothesis among the ac- 
credited facts of science, and make it a basis of his calculations 
and reasoning upon cognate subjects. Just so, looking at the 
matter in the light of nature alone, we must confess, that it is 
not impossible that this life should extend beyond the grave; 
perhaps there are a few faint indications that it will, — a few 
gleams that pierce the darkness of that undiscovered bourn from 
whence no traveller returns ; but he who fully accepts and be- 
lieves the doctrine, allows his wish to be father of the thought, 
and must be ready, on all occasions, to yield his faith on very 
slight testimony. I do not say, that, in such a case, he would 
be justified in disregarding, practically, the least chance of the 
doctrine proving true ; for this, unlike the question respecting 
the planets, is a practical matter, and a wise man will always 
choose the safe side. It is not likely, perhaps, that one of those 
who are assembled to hear a sermon, will die within the hour ; 
but it is the part both of prudence and of duty, so to act as if the 
knell were to be sounded for each within that time. In ab- 
stract cases, however, in matters of pure science, we argue very 
differently ; nothing can be accepted here which is not proved. 
In examining the other doctrines of natural theology, it has 
been my aim throughout to show, that they are supported by 
evidence of the same general character with that on which the 
whole fabric of inductive science depends, though it is stronger 
and more abundant than what is often admitted to be conclusive 
in scientific reasoning. The natural arguments for a future life 
do not come up to this test ; they cannot sustain this compari- 
son ; and I therefore discard them, that they may not discredit 
the reasoning employed to defend the other truths of natural 
religion. 

Continuation of the parallel. — I continue the parallel which 
has been begun, by showing that virtually the same ansiver may 
be made to the proofs alleged in either case. First, the impossi- 
bility of proving that life is confined to our planet, or that the 

36* 



426 THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 

grave is the limit of human existence, as I have already shown, 
is no argument at all to prove that the other planets are inhab- 
ited, or that the soul cannot die. It simply clears the ground 
for it, if such an argument should ever be discovered. It 
leaves the subject entirely open, as one which we know nothing 
about, and therefore as one that affords no occasion either for 
belief or disbelief. The well-known principle, that the burden 
of proof rests upon him who maintains the affirmative in a dis- 
cussion, is a dictate of common sense, no less than of sound logic. 
I admit this impossibility to the fullest extent, and still maintain, 
that not one step has been taken towards the solution of the 
problem. 

Secondly, the analogy that is offered, in the one case, ap- 
peared just as applicable, a few years ago, to our moon, as to 
the planets Venus and Mars, — nay, even more applicable, as, 
owing to the nearness of our satellite, the circumstances are 
more nearly alike. But the recent discovery that our moon has 
neither atmosphere nor water, and that its surface is an almost 
chaotic scene of volcanic action, renders it almost demonstrable 
that it is not inhabited. If the analogy leads to a false conclu- 
sion where it is most nearly perfect, what confidence can we 
place in it where it is incomplete ? In the other case, the anal- 
ogy offered is just as conclusive for proving the immortality of 
an oyster, as that of a man, the former having also passed 
through embryotic transformations. He who builds his faith, 
therefore, upon this analogy between birth and death, must 
accept the doctrine of the Indian, 

" Who thinks, admitted to that distant sky, 
His faithful dog will bear him company." 

To some writers upon the subject, this conclusion has not ap- 
peared so revolting as to induce them to give up the argument ; 
but as it is certain that the lower animals have no moral nature 
whatever, their immortality seems very questionable. 

TJiirdly, the argument that is based upon our opinion of what 
is required by the nature of the Divine attributes, in cases 
which go beyond our experience, our wants, and our powers of 



THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 427 

observation, appears, as I have already hinted, both unsound and 
presumptuous. You say, in the one case, that Divine wisdom 
cannot have created bodies so large as the planets, for no other 
purpose than that of keeping up the balance of the system, 
and that no purpose is so worthy as that of making them the 
abodes of vegetable, animal, and human life. After all, then, 
the force of your reasoning depends upon the size of these bodies ; 
for if they were no larger each than a grain of sand, the suppo- 
sition that they are inhabited would never have been made. 
But our ideas of magnitude are wholly relative ; or, at any 
rate, to Omnipotence, the task of creating a planet is no greater 
than that of fashioning a grain of sand. Is it derogatory to the 
wisdom of the Almighty to suppose, that any particle of earth 
or rock upon our own globe does not contribute its part to the 
support of life ? Who will venture to decide in a case present- 
ing so many considerations that are obviously beyond the reach 
of the human intellect ? * Besides, we have no assurance that 

* The recent publication in England of an eloquent and ingenious essay- 
on " The Plurality of Worlds," supposed to be written by Dr. Whewell, 
has revived the discussion of this question, whether there are other orbs in 
the solar and stellar systems which are inhabited like our earth. The 
work has been answered with considerable ability and acrimony by Sir 
David Brewster, at first in the pages of the North British Review, and 
afterwards in a separate publication, entitled " More Worlds than One." 
Thus we have elaborate arguments, one on each side of the question, from 
two of the most eminent men of science in Great Britain. Each conclu- 
sively shows the weakness of his opponent's case, and thus indirectly leads 
the reader's mind to the proper result, that there are no materials for 
forming an opinion on either side of the question. Dr. Whewell began at 
a disadvantage, by undertaking to prove a negative ; he has very ingen- 
iously brought together the scanty data which astronomical science affords, 
forjudging of the physical condition of other planets, and of the members 
of other systems, in order to prove that such a being as man could not ex- 
ist upon any one of them. His antagonist evades such reasoning alto- 
gether, by stating that the physical constitution of the inhabitants of other 
worlds may be very different from ours, and yet be as happily adapted to 
their abode, as ours is to this earth. This consideration alone, to which 
no answer is possible, is enough to confute all the positive arguments on 
the other side ; we have only to give the reins to our imaginations, and 
conceive of the moral and intellectual endowments of human beings lodged 



428 THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 

the extension of the plan of organic creation, as it is developed 
upon the surface of our earth, is the only object, or the worthiest 



in the bodies of fishes, birds, or mythological monsters, in order to find fit 
inhabitants for tenanting any world under any conceivable circumstances. 
Sir David Brewster triumphs in this view of the case ; but he forgets that 
it is his duty, as maintaining the affirmative side of the question, to ad- 
duce some proof, some shadow of direct argument, that other worlds than 
our own are inhabited. This he cannot do ; the whole positive plea upon 
his side consists in a very faint analogy, and a very arrogant assumption. 
The known points of resemblance between this earth and its sister orbs 
are neither many nor important ; the analogy between them, though it 
may amuse the fancy, cannot direct the judgment. Man cannot so far 
scan the designs of Omnipotence, as to be able to affirm, that any portion 
of the universe exists without a purpose, if it be not inhabited by beings 
like ourselves. From the very nature of the case, the utmost that Sir 
David Brewster can do, is, to show that, in a certain case, the conditions 
are fulfilled which render human existence possible. In other words, he 
can only show, that man might live there ; but this is not advancing a step 
towards the proof, that man does live there. Man might have lived on 
Pitcaim's Island, before the mutineers of the Bounty went thither ; or on 
luan Fernandez, before Alexander Selkirk made it his home ; but as a 
matter-of-fact, he did not live in either of the places, till these events took 
place. 

Dr. Whewell's best point is his reply to the common assertion of his 
antagonists, that it would be unworthy of Omnipotence to leave such vast 
orbs as Mars and Jupiter uninhabited by rational beings. He answers 
that, as the geologists have satisfactorily proved, this earth did exist, 
through unnumbered ages, as the abode only of reptiles and still lower 
orders of being. It was only a few thousand years ago, that the earth 
seems to have become ripe, so to speak, for the habitation of man. Other 
planets and other systems may yet be passing through similar ages of 
preparation — may not yet be ready for this grand consummation of the 
purpose for which they were created. Here, again, the argument is con- 
clusive against those who dogmatically maintain the opposite side of the 
question ; but it is no answer at all, to those who find as little reason to 
deny as to affirm, that the planets are inhabited, and who content them- 
selves with saying, that the matter is beyond the reach of the human fac- 
ulties. 

On the whole, the discussion between these two savans, brilliant and 
amusing as it is, leaves the question precisely where it was before, — a 
matter for fanciful speculation, but not for scientific research or true 
knowledge. 



THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 429 

one, that can engage the attention of the Deity. Our observa- 
tion is limited to a speck of earth, and we may not spell out all 
His designs to whom the universe is indebted for its being. 
So, in the other case, the assumption, that the existence of evil 
belies all our notions of the goodness of the Creator, must de- 
pend on our ideas of the nature and magnitude of that evil. If 
the presence of misfortune and wrong in any shape, or to any 
extent, is inconsistent with his perfections, then the permission 
of them, even for a limited period, though they should be redressed 
or removed in a future life, leaves a stain upon his attributes. 
It may be consoling for us to believe, that the virtue which 
does not meet with its desert in this stage of existence, will be 
rewarded or compensated hereafter ; but this does not remove 
the reproach from the administration of Him who has the gov- 
ernment equally of this life and of that which is to come. Be- 
sides, what do you assume to be the only proper reward of purity 
and virtue ? Is it happiness ? Then is happiness man's great- 
est good, and holiness is only a means for its attainment. You 
shrink instinctively from this conclusion, and still demand 
another life, or the immortality of the soul, not as a means for 
the improvement of character, an object which is obtainable in 
this world, with all its imputed defects and evils, but as a sphere 
or an opportunity for the more perfect enjoyment that you 
crave. Turn the matter as we may, there is selfishness, as well 
as presumption, in thus building our hopes of another life on the 
supposed imperfect justice with which the concerns of this life 
are administered. 

Insufficiency of the metaphysical argument for a future state. 
— Leaving now this parallel, which I have followed so far only 
to show, that the reasoning which would not be admitted as 
legitimate in the ordinary investigations of science, must be re- 
jected also in theology, I pass to a more particular examination 
of the usual arguments for the immortality of the soul, or rather 
for a future state, — inasmuch as hardly one of these arguments 
has any bearing upon the subject of an endless existence. They 
are properly divided into the metaphysical and the moral argu- 
ment, — the former being derived from the immaterial or indi- 



430 THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 

visible nature of mind or self, while the latter is drawn chiefly 
from a comparison of the constitution of man with the circum- 
stances in which he is placed at present.* In the former, it is 
urged that death is a very different thing from annihilation, and 
though the course of nature gives us abundant instances of the 
one, it furnishes not a single example of the other. "What we 
call death, is the cessation of the activity of a complex organism 
or machine, the various parts of which subsequently decay, or 
are resolved into their primitive elements ; but not an atom of 
them is lost, not one particle is annihilated. The carcass of an 
animal is resolved into its constituent gases and earths, which 
go, for a time, to increase the stock of inorganic matter, per- 
haps to be again withdrawn from it, to enter into fresh com- 
binations, and contribute to the support of a new life. Here is 
no absolute destruction, nothing but the resolution of a com- 
pound into its elements, and the formation of new compounds. 
There is no reason to believe that the quantity of matter in the 



* Strictly speaking, the metaphysical argument proves only the possi- 
bility of a future state, and is insufficient, because we can never argue from 
wliat may be, to what is. We know, for instance, that the ichthyosaurus is 
a possible animal, for we find its remains entombed in the solid rock ; but 
we also know that the ichthyosaurus does not now exist upon this earth. 
The moral argument is intended to show the probability of man's future 
existence, and is unsatisfactory because it rests upon two groundless as- 
sumptions ; — first, that the presence of apparent evil in this life cannot be 
explained without impeaching the goodness of the Creator ; and secondly, 
that the supposition of a future life, from which evil is excluded, is a satis- 
factory way, and the only way, of vindicating the Divine benevolence. I 
deny all these postulates. As we have already seen, the doctrine that vir- 
tue, not happiness, is man's highest interest., disproves the alleged existence of 
evil in our present condition, and leaves nothing to be remedied by the 
prospect of a future life. Again, we have no right to assume that another 
state of being is the only means whereby an omniscient and omnipotent 
Creator can vindicate his perfections ; he may have provided other com- 
pensations that we know not of. Still further, as I have already argued, 
the supposition of perfect justice and endless happiness hereafter would 
not account for injustice and misery in our present lot. Why are we not 
introduced at once to the supposed state of perfection, without the neces- 
sity of passing through the evils of this world ? 



THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 431 

universe is less by one particle than it was at the creation ; but 
there is every reason to believe the contrary. Now we have 
perfect evidence that the mind, the person, what we call self, is 
an absolute unit ; it is even inconceivable that it should be com- 
plex, or should consist of parts. What power, then, has death 
over it ? We claim no more for mind than we do for matter, in 
maintaining that it survives death. Of either it may be said, 
that it " cannot, but by annihilation, die ; " and we have no in- 
stance to show that annihilation is possible. 

This reasoning is ingenious and plausible ; but you perceive 
that its only effect is to refute the skeptical assumption, that life 
terminates at the grave. It opens the way for a proof from 
revelation or some other source, if any such proof can be found, 
that life actually continues beyond the grave ; it shows the pos- 
sibility of such continuance, but not its certainty, not even its 
probability. For there is this capital distinction between the 
effects of death upon matter and upon mind. We know that 
death is not the annihilation of the particles or elements that 
make up the material organism, for these remain subject to our 
observation ; we can see and handle them, and trace them into 
the new compounds of which they go to form a part. But the 
mind, the man, disappears to mortal vision when the breath has 
once left the body ; we cannot trace him after the dissolution of 
the frail tenement that he once inhabited. Beyond the tomb, 
to our human perceptions, is a blank, — is nothingness. No 
voice has ever broken that awful silence, no form has ever re- 
turned from that impenetrable shade, save that of Jesus of 
Nazareth, and those to whom he spake. While we admit, there- 
fore, the possibility that our friends survive, though we see them 
not, Ave must admit, also, that we have no evidence of their exist- 
ence but from revelation. A similar remark may be made on 
the analogy that is often proposed between sleep and death. 
We know that man awakes out of sleep, as we have repeatedly 
witnessed the fact ; and this shows the possibility of such an 
awakening hereafter. But we do not know, except from God's 
revealed word, that he awakes after the sleep of death, for such 
a resurrection we have never witnessed. 



432 THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 

Matter is not necessarily indestructible. — The metaphysical 
argument proves nothing, unless we assume that the elements 
or primary particles of matter, and, generally, all things which 
are not compounded or made up of parts, are essentially inde- 
structible ; that is, that they exist by a necessity of their own 
nature. Then the time never could have been when they did 
not exist ; what is indestructible must also be ingenerable, as the 
possibility of its non-existence at any antecedent period, how- 
ever remote, negatives the supposition of its necessary exist- 
ence. I adopt, therefore, the conclusion of Mr. Stewart, who 
says, that " this argument, supposing it were logical, proves too 
much ; for it concludes as strongly against the possibility of the 
soul's being created as dissolved; and, accordingly, we find that 
almost all the ancient j)hiiosophers who believed in a future state 
maintained, also, the doctrine of the soul's preexistence. Nay, 
some of them seem to have considered the latter point as still 
better established than the former. In the Phaedon of Plato, in 
which Socrates is introduced as stating to his friends, immedi- 
ately before his execution, the proofs of a future state, Cebes, 
who is one of the speakers in the dialogue, admits that he has 
been successful in establishing the doctrine of the soul's preex- 
istence, but insists on further proofs of the possibility of its 
surviving the body." 

The argument by Plato and Cicero examined. — I may add, 
that in the most remarkable passage of Cicero's writings refer- 
ring to this subject, — the Dream of Scipio, — the same fact is 
held to prove both the preexistence and the immortality of the 
soul. The argument, indeed, is translated almost literally from 
the Phsedrus of Plato. The shade of Africanus argues thus : — 
Every thing which derives its motion from something else, may 
evidently cease to move, and cease to exist ; for the cause of its 
motion may be withdrawn. On the other hand, that which 
moves itself, as it does not derive its movement from any thing 
else, but is the source or origin of its own motion and of the 
motion of other things, never began to be ; for that which is 
itself a source and a primal cause, has no beginning. So, also, 
as it moves itself, the cause of its motion can never be with- 



THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 433 

drawn ; for it cannot leave or desert itself. It must, therefore, 
live and move forever. Now the body of man is moved by the 
indwelling soul, which may depart from it, so that the body will 
cease to move, and will perish ; but that soul moves itself, and, 
accordingly, it was not created, and it can never cease to be.* 

This is a good specimen of the acute metaphysical reasoning 
of the ancients ; but as it wholly overlooks the consideration, 
that a superior being may not only directly move an inferior one, 
but may give it the power of moving itself for a limited period, 
just as man fashions and winds up a watch, which will then, in 
a certain sense, move itself for twenty-four hours, we need not 
dwell upon it here. The whole scope of the metaphysical argu- 
ment, if properly carried out, is to prove the necessary exist- 
ence both of matter and mind through an antecedent eternity, 
and through the eternity which is to come. 

The limits of human science. — As I had occasion to remark 
in the former Part, the province of human science in regard to 
objects that exist, is strictly limited to that which is and that which 
has been ; the former being known to us through observation and 
experiment, the latter through memory and the testimony of 
others, or through the permanency of the effects which it has 
produced. The present and the past constitute our sphere of 
knowledge ; vainly do we attempt to descry the future, except 
through supernatural illumination. The only exceptions to this 
rule are, the eternal future duration of the Deity, which we im- 
mediately deduce from his antecedent eternity as the First 
Cause, and that probability of certain future events, which is 
founded upon our knowledge of the uniformity of his modes of 
operation, and of the fact that infinite wisdom cannot change. 

What is called the natural desire for immortality is only the 
fear of death. — The moral argument for a future state seems 
to me still more vague and unsatisfactory than that which is 
metaphysical. Under this head are ranked, first, the presump- 

* This is a paraphrase, rather than a translation ; the original may be 
found in Plato, Phoedrus, § 51-53, and in Cicero, Tus. Disp. I. 23, and 
Somn. Scip. 8, 9. 

37 



434 THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 

tions arising from " the natural desire of immortality, and the 
anticipations of futurity inspired by hope ; " — the presumptions, 
I say, for these feelings surely cannot be considered as affording 
any positive proof of the reality of that state of existence to 
which they point. But it is argued, that " whatever desires are 
evidently implanted in our minds by nature, and are encouraged 
by the noblest and worthiest principles of our constitution, we 
may reasonably conclude, will in due time be gratified under 
the government of a Being infinite both in power and goodness." 
Now, it is obviously difficult for those who have always lived 
under the light of the Christian revelation, to know how strong, 
or how natural, these desires are, when they have not been fos- 
tered by positive assurances from a source that we cannot dis- 
trust. Our minds have been nurtured, our lives guided, by the 
well-founded hopes which Christianity affords ; and certainly it 
would be a rude and painful shock, to learn that these hopes 
were vain. But go back to the times antecedent to the birth of 
our Saviour, and ask how many of the common people, under 
the Grecian and Roman commonwealths, were accustomed to 
cherish the desire of an existence beyond the grave. I do not 
mean to imply, that they had no such hope or expectation. Un- 
questionably, life is sweet, with all its vexations, sufferings, and 
cares ; and most persons shrink from the termination of it, if for 
no other reason, from an unwillingness to have the projects of 
the hour cut short, — to leave the plough in the furrow, the 
book half read, or the house half finished. It is not so much 
that they wish for immortality, as that they fear death ; and it is 
not because death, if painless, is in itself so terrible, as that at 
no one time are they just ready for it. Accordingly, with the 
pagan world, a future state was but a shadowy counterpart, a 
dream-like continuance, of their earthly life, — a prolongation, 
in the dusky realms of Pluto, of its exercises, its amusements, 
and its cares. In the Elysian fields, the warrior still bore his 
armor and brandished his javelin, the huntsman pursued the 
flying game, " the hunter and the deer a shade," the poet-priest 
sang to his harp, and the athletes wrestled in the arena. 
w Whatever delight, when alive, they had in chariots and arms, 



THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 435 

whatever pleasure in keeping fine horses, the same tastes con- 
tinue with them after their bodies have been consigned to the 
earth." * And still they are vexed with a dim notion of the 
shadowy and unsubstantial character of these enjoyments of the 
dead. The shade of the warrior, when questioned on the sub- 
ject, impatiently declares, that he would rather be a poor slave 
on the earth, than a monarch over all the spectres of the de- 
parted, f 

" The weariest and most loathed worldly life, 
That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment 
Can lay on nature, is a paradise 
To what we fear of death." 

In these pictures, which certainly represent the faith of the 
most refined nations of pagan antiquity, I see a love of life, or a 
dread of death, but no 'proper desire for a future state of endless 
being. If a few philosophers and moralists discarded these vain 
and unworthy conceptions of futurity, they had nothing to sub- 
stitute for them but some speculations, almost equally paltry, 
about the preexistence and the transmigration of souls. It may 
well be doubted, therefore, whether any such desire as is here 
made the basis of an argument for immortality, is natural to 
man ; — that is, whether it is a primitive impulse, an original 
and universal principle in our constitution, so that it would be 
an impeachment of Divine wisdom to suppose that it was im- 
planted in us without a purpose, or of Divine goodness to 
believe that it is not to be gratified. 

Not all our desires are meant to be gratified. — " If life," says 



* Quae gratia currum 
Armorumque fuit vivis, qua} cura nitcntes 
Pascere equos, eadem sequitur tellure repostos. 

sEneid, VI. 653-655. 

f Mf/ dr) fx,ot davarov ye irapavda, ^aidtfi' 'Odvoaev • 
Bov?x>i/j,7]v k' ercupovpog euv $7]T£vefiev uXkio, 
'Avdpl Trap' aKlvpcj, J [irj (3iorog irolvg elrj, 
H iraOLv veKvecoi Kara^LiievoLOLv avdaaetv. 

Odyssey, XL 489-491 



436 THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 

Dr. Brown, "be pleasing, — and even though there were no 
existence beyond the grave, life might still, by the benevolence 
of Him who conferred it, have been rendered a source of pleas- 
ure, — it is not wonderful that we should desire futurity, since 
futurity is only protracted life. The universal desire, then, even 
if the desire were truly universal, would prove nothing but the 
goodness of Him who has made the realities — or, if not the 
realities, the hopes — of life so pleasing, that the mere loss of 
what is possessed or hoped appears like a positive evil of the 
most afflictive kind." "This pleasing hope, this fond desire, 
this longing after immortality " is the sentiment of a Christian 
poet, though he has put it into the mouth of a Roman Stoic, 
who is made to find in it a provocation to suicide. Not all the 
desires which are natural to man are intended to be gratified, as 
we are continually hankering after a greater measure of happi- 
ness than we actually enjoy.* It is enough that this wish, and 
others of a similar kind, answer a useful purpose, by constantly 
stimulating us to action, since life itself would otherwise become 
vapid and sterile. 

Insufficiency of the present life to satisfy our aspirations. — 
Another branch of the moral argument depends on a compari- 
son of our intellectual powers, our impulses and conceptions, 



* The desire for health is .both natural and universal; but it is not 
always gratified, and it is not even desirable that we should have an entire^ 
exemption from disease. Sickness is both penal and reformatory, and it 
is useful in both relations. It is one of the most important of the pains 
and penalties with wbich transgression is visited, under the moral govern- 
ment of God ; and it softens the heart, so as most effectually to prepare 
the way for repentance. In this instance, and in many others, we can 
clearly see why the gratification of a natural and universal desire is denied ; 
we can discern the moral purpose of the infliction. Eeasoning by induc- 
tion, then, we can easily conclude that such a moral purpose may exist, 
even when, from the imperfection of our faculties, we cannot recognize it. 
If our present life is so happily constituted that all men desire the con- 
tinuance of it, and shrink from death, then the goodness of the Deity is 
sufficiently vindicated already, without having recourse to the violent sup- 
position, that there is to be another state of being, which will be governed 
on very different principles. 



THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 437 

with the condition in which we are placed in this life, where cir- 
cumstances are for ever impeding our efforts, thwarting our am- 
bition, and baffling our plans. It is urged, that " our faculties 
are above our condition, and our curiosity is still greater than 
our faculties can satisfy." The instincts of the lower animals 
are exactly accommodated to their wants, and to the state in 
which nature has placed them. They do not appear to be 
troubled with any desires that they cannot satisfy, or with any 
fears that extend beyond the safety of their possessions for the 
moment. But man is restless, curious, and impatient ; his con- 
ceptions are vague and vast, his ambition unbounded, and his 
curiosity insatiable. He has the mind of an archangel im- 
prisoned in the carcass of a worm. It is affirmed, that " if he 
had no intimations of a future existence, it would have been 
better for him never to have extended his views beyond this 
globe and the period of human life, instead of embracing, as at 
present, a stretch of duration and of space which throws a ridi- 
cule on the whole history of human affairs." We aspire to 
know the history, not only of the earlier generations of our own 
race, but of the mutations which the solid globe underwent in 
those geological periods, the remoteness of which can harldly be 
represented by figures, while to our aching conceptions they 
seem to lie upon the confines of eternity. Not content with the 
ability to predict the motions and future positions of the heav- 
enly bodies, we torment ourselves with unanswerable questions 
as to the beings who inhabit them, or the purpose which they 
serve in the grand scheme of the universe, or the order and law 
under which they were successively created. The mind returns 
from these sublime and far-reaching inquiries, to find itself tied 
to a body which is limited, in comparison, to a speck of earth 
and a moment of duration. The wants of this body afflict it 
with a multitude of petty cares, and the ordinary business of 
life, referring mostly to these wants, seems vexatious and con- 
temptible. It is said that the disproportion here is so vast, 
that it cannot be reconciled with the notions we have formed of 
the attributes of the Creator and Governor of the universe, ex- 
cept by regarding it as an intimation of a future and higher 

37* 



438 THE IMMORTALITY OP THE SOUL. 

state of existence, in which this curiosity and these aspirations 
shall be fully satisfied. 

Proper use of such considerations. — I am far from wishing 
to lessen the force, or take away the applicability, of such ele- 
vated considerations as these. Those whose belief in a future 
life rests entirely upon the teachings of the author of Christian- 
ity, may still dwell upon them with satisfaction and pleasure, as 
they open new views of the purposes to which the existence 
beyond the tomb may be subservient. Speculations upon the 
nature of our employments in another stage of being, and upon 
the accession to our knowledge that will instantly take place 
when we are released from the incumbrance of the flesh, though 
they may not often command our unhesitating assent, will often 
afford scope for profitable meditation. But their use is secon- 
dary ; they tend to fortify and render inviting the faith which 
was first conceived upon other grounds. Such a mode of rea- 
soning as is here adopted, if reasoning it can be called, would 
hardly occur to any one who had not been educated in the 
Christian belief from infancy, nor to such a one even, if his life 
had not been devoted chiefly to scientific investigations and 
speculative pursuits. Vastly the larger portion of the Christian 
world, even at the present day, can with difficulty be persuaded 
to use even those means of knowledge which are opened to 
them ; those cannot complain of the barriers which limit the 
progress of science, who do not know where these barriers are 
placed, who have not gone over the hundredth part of the field 
which they circumscribe. There is more danger that men will 
attach undue importance to the petty cares and transitory in- 
terests of this world, than that they will be led to slight and 
despise them because their intellects can traverse creation, and 
their curiosity aspires to number the stars in the heavens. 

The grand openings which philosophy and science afford into 
the scheme of God's universe seem intended, not so much to 
warn us of a future state to which we are destined, as to coun- 
teract the influence of those passions and appetites which relate 
only to the petty objects that are immediately before us, and to 
the concerns of the moment. They answer a usefid purpose. 



THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 439 

then, in the economy of this life, and have no visible necessary 
reference to that which is to come. If the only purpose of reason 
were to take the place of instinct, in guiding us to the proper 
mode of satisfying our bodily wants, then, indeed, we might 
expect that curiosity would be limited to those things which 
immediately affect our temporal well-being. But if a moral end 
is superadded, if self-improvement is desirable for its own sake 
and in any stage of being, then there is an obvious utility in 
rendering our curiosity boundless, so that the efforts and inves- 
tigations to which it leads may tend to the unceasing, the indefi- 
nite, development of our faculties.* To what other purposes 
in God's providence this insatiable thirst for knowledge may be 
subservient, we do not know ; it is enough for us to see that it 
is useful here, — that it enlarges the sphere of our enjoyments, 
sustains our activity, and dignifies our life. Surely we are not 
driven to the supposition of another, an untried, state of exist- 
ence, in order to find any benevolent purpose, or any useful 
result, in causing man to thirst after knowledge as for hidden 
treasure. 



* " If the present state is to be the whole of our being," argues Dr. 
Crombie, "why are not our conceptions confined to the sphere to which 
our existence is limited 1 "Why are we capable, in imagination and in 
hope, of rising beyond that sphere 1 Why have we a notion of eternity ? 
The brutes have no such conception. Why is it given to man 1 " 

Surely this argument proves too much. We can form a conception of 
infinite power, just as well as of endless duration; but this does not prove 
that we are to be, not only immortal, but omnipotent. 

In fact, our vague longings after indefinitely higher attributes than those 
which we now possess, are checked by the obvious consideration, that ad- 
vancement in morals depends upon ourselves alone ; that it is our own 
fault, if we stop short of a perfect compliance with the law of right ; and 
that infinite wisdom and power are incompatible with the existence of 
moral weakness and imperfection. If we take this reflection along with 
us, we shall see that these lofty, and even irrational, desires, though they 
were never to be gratified, still answer a useful purpose, as they stimulate 
our activity and strengthen our virtuous resolutions. Some disappoint- 
ment, some vain endeavors, are needed to teach us humility and the duty 
of self-examination. Here, as elsewhere, we perceive that the great end 
of life is moral discipline and self-improvement. 



440 THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 

The goodness of God needs no vindication from the doctrine 
of immortality. — I need not dwell long upon the only remain- 
ing branch of the moral argument, — the discordance between 
our moral judgments and feelings, and the course of human af- 
fairs, — as much of what was necessary to be said upon this 
point has been anticipated. I do not believe that the moral 
government of this world stands in need of an apology, or that 
we must imagine another world in which its errors may be cor- 
rected and its imperfections supplied. Do not let us make the 
same mistake as the Mahometans, and believe in the immortal- 
ity of the soul, only because we crave a sensual paradise, and 
cannot find one here below. You say, that the course of hu- 
man affairs often does not coincide with your ideas of absolute 
right ; that is, the good often seem unhappy, and the wicked tri- 
umphant. To remedy these evils, you would create an Elysium 
in which there should be no temptation, no suffering, — where 
there would be no call for benevolence, no opportunity for self- 
sacrifice, — and where, consequently, virtue would be a mere 
abstract conception, never a reality. If such a state be prefer- 
able to the one in which we live, why were we not placed in it 
from the beginning ? why not admitted at once to the joys of 
heaven, without carrying thither any stains from earth ? By 
applying the doctrine of a future life only as a solution of the 
problem respecting the origin of evil, we do not destroy the dif- 
ficulty ; we only push it a little further off. And, without this 
doctrine, the presence of apparent evil in this life will not seem 
inexplicable to those who can see the whole force of our Sav- 
iour's allusion to the righteousness which hath its reward, or 
who can penetrate the meaning of his solemn declaration, — 
" They shall not say, Lo here ! or Lo there ! for behold, the 
kingdom of God is within you." 

The doctrine of Revelation respecting a future life. — I do 
not fear lest these observations should seem opposed even to 
that belief in the immortality of the soul which is founded 
wholly upon Revelation. It is certainly conceivable, that the 
same scheme of government, which is begun here, should be 
continued hereafter, when, though its essential features remain 



THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 441 

unchanged, its excellence shall be more apparent. We can 
conceive that the two periods of human existence should stand 
related to each other as childhood to mature age, the former 
being a preparation for the latter, and still so justly and benevo- 
lently constituted in itself, that, if existence did not extend be- 
yond it, it would yet mirror to our eyes the perfections of the 
Infinite One. The commands of conscience, though of absolute 
obligation, are too frequently so weak as to lose their suprem- 
acy over the passions. Nothing could tend so effectually to 
increase their hold upon our attention, and to strengthen their 
influence, as the assured belief that the consequences of obey- 
ing or neglecting them will extend, and will be recognized by 
us, through an endless futurity. The din and tumult of earthly 
passions, the force of earthly appetites, which now obscure or 
drown their utterance, through infinite ages, will be hushed or 
will have passed away ; and as we have formed ourselves here 
by respecting or contemning their authority, so shall we con- 
tinue for ever. The incalculable value of a Revelation winch 
should fully establish this great truth, cannot be more impres- 
sively set forth than in the few words with which Paley closes 
his view of the importance of Christianity. 

" Had Jesus Christ delivered no other declaration than the 
following, — ' The hour is coming, in the which all that are in 
the grave shall hear his voice, and shall come forth ; they that 
have done good unto the resurrection of life, and they that have 
done evil unto the resurrection of damnation/ — he had pro- 
nounced a message of inestimable importance, and well worthy 
of that splendid apparatus of prophecy and miracles with which 
his mission was introduced and attested ; — a message in which 
the wisest of mankind would rejoice to find an answer to their 
doubts, and rest to their inquiries. It is idle to say, that a fu- 
ture state had been discovered already ; it had been discover- 
ed as the Copernican system was ; — it was one guess among 
many. He alone discovers who proves ; and no man can prove 
this point, but the preacher who testifies by miracles that his 
doctrine comes from God." 



442 NATURAL RELIGION AND REVELATION. 



CHAPTER X. 

THE RELATION OF NATURAL TO REVEALED RELIGION. 

Summary of the last chapter. — The object of the last chapter 
was to show, that the doctrine of a future life, and, for yet 
stronger reasons, that of the absolute immortality of the soul, 
cannot be made out from the light of nature alone, or by the 
unassisted intellect of man. Questions of fact come within the 
range of human investigation only when they relate to the pres- 
ent or the past ; the future is for us a sealed book, except so far 
as we can determine what may he, from what has been, or can 
know directly that what always has been, always must be. We 
believe that fire will bum the flesh, and thus cause pain, because 
we have observed that it has done so ; but the fact that man has 
lived, only establishes a presumption that he will continue to live 
as he has done, — that is, in this stage of existence, subject to 
our powers of observation. TVhen this existence is interrupted 
by death, and he is wholly removed from our sight and observa- 
tion, we have no antecedent fact on which to found even a pre- 
sumption that he continues to live, though in a different state 
of being ; for, apart from revelation, we have never known the 
grave to give up its dead, — we have had no experience of this 
other state of being. We perceive, then, that a future life is 
possible, but we have no natural grounds for believing that it is 
either probable or improbable. 

I remarked, therefore, that the doctrine of a future life stands 
on the same basis with the opinion, that the other planets of 
our systenT are inhabited by beings like ourselves ; it is a mere 
conjecture, which never has been, and never can be, either 
proved or disproved. It lies beyond the sphere of human 
knowledge ; there is no evidence of it in nature, and the only 



NATURAL RELIGION AND REVELATION. 443 

proof of which it is susceptible must be supernatural. If we 
pass to a particular examination of the several analogies and 
presumptions which have been offered, from the light of nature, 
in favor of either of these opinions, we shall find either that they 
prove too much, or that they are wholly vague and unsatisfac- 
tory, answering rather as topics of declamation than as scientific 
grounds of belief. Thus, the analogy between birth and death 
affords just as conclusive evidence of the immortality of the 
whole animate creation as of that of man ; since all members, both 
of the animal and vegetable kingdoms, have equally undergone 
transformations, or passed from one stage of being to another 
and quite a different one. The argument from the essential 
unity of our personal being, and from the fact that death is 
dissolution, not annihilation, proves the preexistence, quite as 
strongly as the future existence, of the soul, — affords not even 
a presumption that mind is any more immortal than the ulti- 
mate particles of matter, — and, in fact, proves nothing in regard 
to either, unless we make the perfectly baseless assumption, that 
every absolute unit is essentially indestructible and ingenerable. 
The general desire for immortality, on which so much stress has 
been laid, I attempted to show, from an examination of the 
opinions of the ancients upon the subject, was rather a love of 
this life and a desire for its prolongation, than any natural wish 
for a state of retribution and endless existence beyond the grave. 
To assume, as is often done, that another life is necessary in 
order to make up for the imperfections, and redress the injustice, 
which are apparent here, is to assert that the Deity does not 
govern this world in righteousness, and therefore to afford very 
insecure. grounds for the hope that he has provided another, 
which he will administer on different principles. That our 
curiosity is insatiable, and our aspirations after knowledge are 
so large, that, in comparison with them, the ordinary business of 
this life seems vexatious, and the sphere of our present exist- 
ence contemptible, is a fact of immense importance for the 
moral education of man, and thus answers so useful a purpose 
here, that it affords no clear indication of what is to be here- 
after. 



444 NATURAL RELIGION AND REVELATION. 

Revelation teaches something more than the light of nature. — 
Christianity, then, is not a mere republication of the doctrines 
of Natural Religion. Apart from its precepts, and its commu- 
nication of abstract truth as to the relations which connect man 
with the Deity, it has revealed to the world a fact of momen- 
tous interest, of which the human intellect alone never could 
obtain any satisfactory assurance, and which is better calculated 
than any other, to exert a salutary influence on the life and 
character. Our conscious being, our hopes, and the conse- 
quences of our actions, do not terminate at the grave, but ex- 
tend onward into a boundless futurity ; this is now the assured 
belief of almost the whole civilized world. Most persons no 
more think of seriously questioning it, than they do of doubting 
the fact of their present existence. Whence came this general 
assent, this unquestioning faith ? Contrast it with the dim con- 
ceptions and universal uncertainty upon the subject which pre- 
vailed before the promulgation of Christianity, and thus recog- 
nize the folly of those, who, " upon pretence of the sufficiency of 
the light of nature, avowedly reject all Eevelation, as in its very 
notion incredible, and what must be fictitious." 

How far Revelation must be coincident with Natural Religion. 
— In passing to a consideration of this topic, — the connection 
between Natural and Revealed Religion, the importance of the 
latter, and the nature of the evidence to be required in its sup- 
port, — our first inquiry must be, What presumptions does the 
light of nature afford as to the probable character and purport 
of an immediate Revelation from God, supposing one to be 
made ? As the two schemes come from the same Author, the 
one being revealed to us through the original constitution of 
our faculties, and the other by subsequent and special commu- 
nication, we must expect that they will be coincident in design, 
or that they will work to- the same end by the use of similar 
means. The law which is directly promulgated, cannot contra- 
dict, disprove, or supersede the law which is written on the 
heart, and indicated by the course of nature ; since the purposes 
of the Almighty cannot change. It may enlarge the scope of 
the natural law, confirm its claims, and strengthen it by addi- 



NATURAL RELIGION AND REVELATION. 445 

tional sanctions and motives to obedience. It may continue 
and complete, but cannot abrogate, the system which is founded 
on human nature itself, and guarded by so many wise arrange- 
ments in the outward universe. 

Christianity fulfils these conditions. — Taking Christianity as 
the type of Revelation, inasmuch as its claims are confessedly 
paramount to all others, we find that all these conditions are 
fulfilled. Its object is the same, — the moral and religious ed- 
ucation of man, the progress of the individual soul, self-attained, 
in purity and holiness. It reaffirms the moral law, which we 
have seen embodied in Natural Religion, in its whole extent, 
and sanctions the severity and absoluteness of its demands. Its 
precepts have regard, not so much to outward acts, as to the 
disposition of mind from which such acts proceed, and to the 
secret purposes of the heart. It declares that the great purpose 
of creation is a moral one, — that all physical arrangements and 
events, as we are accustomed to call them, have for their lead- 
ing object to promote the growth of the religious element in 
man, and to introduce the reign of justice, purity, and love, of 
truth and righteousness, upon earth. It distinctly teaches the 
doctrine of God in nature, and of an ever-watchful Providence, 
referring all events, even the fall of a sparrow and the clothing 
of the lilies of the field, to the direct exertion of Almighty 
power. And lest man, in the infirmity of his vision or the ex- 
tent of his prejudices, should fail to recognize the high moral 
purpose to which such events are subservient, their ordinary 
sequence is interrupted for his instruction. The winds and the 
sea, the eyes of the blind and the ears of the deaf, the very 
issues of life and death, are made immediately obedient to the 
voice of the great Teacher and Exemplar of mercy, holiness, 
and truth. A miracle, then, is not so much a suspension of the 
laws of nature, as a more distinct announcement of the object for 
which those laws are observed. It does not evince a change of 
purpose on the part of their Author, but makes that original 
purpose more directly evident to man, through a momentary 
but striking change in the mode of operation. It is a conde- 
scension to human infirmity, an opening of the eyes of the blind, 

38 



446 NATURAL RELIGION AND REVELATION. 

— not an alteration in the laws of sight, or in the purposes of 
God. 

A revelation was to be expected. — This is the only idea that 
we can form of Revealed Religion, the only conception of it 
that is possible, since revelation is itself a miracle. It is the 
teaching of Providence, not altered in its purport, but rendered 
more distinct and obvious to human perception ; the law pro- 
claimed on Sinai is but an additional announcement of the law 
within the breast, though made more clear and impressive, and 
so more likely to obtain obedience. Knowing the weakness of. 
human nature and the goodness of God, a revelation, a miracle, 
was precisely what man had reason to expect ; and this would 
be true, though the revealed doctrine neither made any addition 
to the list of our duties, nor communicated any fact of such 
priceless value as that of an existence after death. Man had 
become so hardened, his passions had obtained so much the 
mastery over him, sluggishness and ignorance had so imbruted 
his being, that the Divine marks upon his soul were nearly 
effaced. The law of God, though knowable, was not known by 
him. What he needed, then, was not the announcement of a 
new truth, or the promulgation of an additional law, but some 
startling event to remind him of his origin, the purpose of his 
being, and his duty. The old law needed to be written in 
characters of flame, dazzling his outward vision, before it could 
sufficiently command his attention and subdue his selfishness. 
Knowledge was not difficult to be had, or unattainable; but 
obedience was not easy. Ignorance and habit had confirmed the 
dominion of sin. 

What is called Natural Religion is in fact revealed. — But it 
is true only in one sense, and that not the most obvious one, 
that Revelation has added but little to the doctrines and pre- 
cepts of Natural Religion, save the great truth of the immor- 
tality of the soul. We are accustomed to speak of Natural 
Religion as if it were a distinct system of faith, which actually 
existed and was recognized by men before Christianity was 
born, while it is still believed and practised by many who do 
not admit the evidence of any supernatural revelation. But it 



NATURAL RELIGION AND REVELATION. 447 

is not so. What we call Natural Religion, and what I have 
endeavored to exhibit as such in this work, never did exist 
before the promulgation of Christianity, or without the aid' of a 
previous revelation, — not even a faint semblance of it ; it extends 
vastly beyond the furthest point which the unassisted intellect 
of those early ages, or of any subsequent age, ever attained. 
What we call Natural Religion never obtained, as a distinct sys- 
tem of belief, generally avowed and acted upon by large bodies 
of men, in any country or in any age. It is not, and it never 
,was, a rival of Christianity, or something which will enable 
mankind to do without Christianity. There is no such thing as 
a half-way house to heaven. What goes by the name of Natural 
Religion, is nearly as much the direct gift of revelation to man, 
as the knowledge of a future life itself. Instead of seeking to 
eliminate the supernatural element in religion, and to merge 
Revelation in the natural system, truth requires us to merge 
the natural system in the revealed, and to look upon the whole 
as the fruit of immediate communication from heaven. At the 
time of our Saviour's appearance upon earth, the question for 
his hearers was not between the doctrine that he taught and 
Natural Religion, but between that doctrine and Judaism, or 
polytheism, or some other of the myriad forms of positive re- 
ligion, or the so-called philosophical unbelief. Just so, at the 
present day, we have to choose, not between Christianity and 
Natural Religion, — for it is impossible to rest there, — but be- 
tween Christianity and utter skepticism, or Mohammedanism, or 
gross and vulgar idolatry. This is the case so far as opinion, 
or belief, is concerned ; and the conduct of men is a practical 
confirmation of this view. None but avowed skeptics as to all 
religion openly reject Christianity, because they cannot resist 
the testimony in its favor ; but they fall back upon an avowal of 
it in word, and a denial of it in deed. So it must always be. 

How far religion and science are natural to man. — But these 
assertions need explanation and proof, and I proceed to give 
them. Natural Religion, as I have endeavored to expound it, 
is a compliance with the moral law in its full extent and purity, 
because it is God's command, or through veneration for the 



448 NATURAL RELIGION AND REVELATION. 

Divine character ; together with a recognition of his presence 
and constant agency in the universe, and of his immediate gov- 
ernment of all events, both physical and moral, with a view to 
the moral and religious improvement of mankind. Now what is 
knowable is to be clearly distinguished from what is actually 
known. The discovery of a truth is not the same thing with find- 
ing the evidence of that truth after the discovery has been made ; 
the latter is always much the easier task of the two ; it is the 
work of an inferior understanding. Strictly speaking, all sci- 
ence, both that which is actually possessed by civilized nations in 
their present state of culture, and all that is attainable by their 
future efforts, is natural to man ; it was originally placed within 
reach of the human faculties, and was designed to reward study 
and investigation. What is called Natural Religion is natural 
to man in no other sense than as a full knowledge of the Prin- 
cipia of Newton is natural to the understanding of every child ; 
that is, when the propositions are placed before him with their 
evidence, and brought within his comprehension, he immediately 
recognizes their truth and sufficiency.* Could he, therefore, 



* " In one sense, and an obvious sense of the words, religion is a universal 
want of man. It is required for the development of his moral and spirit- 
ual powers. He is suffering, tempted, and imperfect ; and he needs it for 
consolation, for strength to resist, and for encouragement to make prog- 
ress. It is connected, not with any particular faculty or faculties, but 
with the whole nature of man, as a moral and immortal being, a creature 
of God. But religious principle and feeling, however important, are nec- 
essarily founded on the belief of certain facts ; of the existence and provi- 
dence of God, and of man's immortality. Now the evidence of these facts 
is not intuitive ; and whatever ground for the belief of them may be af- 
forded by the phenomena of nature, or the ordinary course of events, it is 
certain that the generality of men have never been able by their unassisted 
reason to obtain assurance concerning them. Out of the sphere of those 
unenlightened by Divine revelation, neither the belief nor the imagination 
of them has operated with any considerable effect to produce the relig- 
ious character. The belief in these facts, if it exist independently of 
Christian faith, must either be a mere prejudice, or must be a deduction 
of reason. But the process of reasoning required to attain the assur- 
ance of a Christian, if it might have been successfully pursued by a very 
wise, enlightened, and virtuous heathen, never was thus pursued ; and it 



NATURAL RELIGION AND REVELATION. 449 

have discovered them for himself, without the aid of a teacher ? 
The Saviour came to make known the will of his Father, and 
to guide us into all truth ; — shall we say that his coming and 
his instructions were unnecessary, because the truth, when once 
revealed by him, shines by its own light, and needs not the aid 
of a miracle for its confirmation ? 

Even the piinciples of morals not evolved by reason alone. — 
These considerations are applicable, not only to the first truths 
of religion, in the proper sense of that term, but to the first prin- 
ciples of ethics, when viewed abstractly, or without reference 
to the fact that they are enforced by the Divine command. 
Because moral laws, when first presented to the reason, are 
immediately recognized as necessary and absolute truths, bind- 
ing upon us from their own nature, of intrinsic obligation, and 
proving themselves, it does not follow that the unassisted rea- 
son would have evolved them in our consciousness in all their 
distinctness and purity. A necessary truth is not necessarily an 
axiomatic truth, perceived, recognized, and acted upon from the 
dawn of our intellectual being, before our instruction by others 
begins. For consider the parallel case of pure mathematics. 
The whole of mathematical science is necessary truth ; all the 
propositions of the geometer and the algebraist can be reduced, 
in form at least, to a proposition of identity, or an equation, — 
to the assertion that a = a. Do we say, then, that the child 
needs no instruction in this branch of knowledge, — that he 
may be left to complete the task, which even Pascal only com- 
menced, of making all the discoveries of Euclid over again, and 
working out the whole of a Mecanique Celeste by himself, with- 
out instruction or guidance ? No ; he is abandoned to his own 
efforts only when he has reached the term of other men's knowl- 



is scarcely necessary to say, that, to the generality of the heathen world 
before Christianity, the facts, that there is a God, in the Christian sense of 
that name, that man is immortal, and that the present life is a state of prep- 
aration for the future, were not matters of religious faith. Nor was there 
any likelihood that, without Christianity, they would ever become so." — 
Norton's Tracts on Christianity, pp. 373, 374. 

38* 



450 NATURAL RELIGION AND REVELATION. 

edge. And so it is in morals. The human race, in this respect, 
was a dull and froward child, stumbling at the very threshold, 
spelling out with difficulty the first elements of knowledge, till a 
Teacher appeared who unclasped the book containing the whole 
science, and held up the ideal of virtue and holiness to the as- 
tonished gaze of the world ; — the ideal, do I say ? — rather the 
living example, embodied holiness, purity, and truth. But the 
lesson was too much for the comprehension of that age ; and 
though the civilized world has been studying it ever since, it 
has not yet climbed to the height of that great argument. " The 
light shineth in darkness, and the darkness comprehended it 
not." 

What is called Natural Religion, is rather the natural evidence, 
or the proof from the light of nature, of the greatest part of Re- 
vealed Religion. It did not exist before Revelation, nor has it 
ever existed since, as a separate system of belief. Instead of 
evincing, by the largeness of its scope and the excellence of its 
doctrine, that a revelation wa3 unnecessary, it rather shows the 
breadth and solidity of the foundation on which Christianity 
rests, in that so large a portion of it, when once revealed, — that 
is, discovered, or made known, — is found to be in harmony 
with the other works of God, and so demonstrable by external 
or internal evidence, without reference to the extraordinary 
proofs that attended its promulgation. We may admit, then, 
with Bishop Butler, that " it is certain no Revelation would 
have been given, had the light of nature been sufficient in such 
a sense as to render one not wanting and useless. But no man, 
in seriousness and simplicity of mind, can possibly think it so, 
who considers the state of religion in the heathen world before 
Revelation, and its present state in those places which have 
borrowed no light from it ; particularly the doubtfulness of some 
of the greatest men concerning things of the utmost importance, 
as well as the natural inattention and ignorance of mankind in 
general. It is impossible to say who would have been able to 
reason out that whole system, which we call Natural Religion, 
in its genuine simplicity, clear of superstition ; but there is cer- 
tainly no ground to affirm that the generality could. If they 



NATURAL RELIGION AND REVELATION. 451 

could, there is no sort of probability that they would. Admit- 
ting there were, they would highly want a standing admonition 
to remind them of it and inculcate it upon them." 

What sort of religion existed previous to Christianity. — In 
arguing, that, in point of fact, we are indebted to Christianity 
for nearly all that is excellent in Natural Religion, it is not nec- 
essary to maintain that the human understanding could not, by 
any possibility, in any future time, work out a natural system 
of religious belief as clear and satisfactory as this. It is enough 
to urge, that the power to recognize and demonstrate a truth, 
after it has once been made known to us, is wholly different 
from, and usually much inferior to, the capacity of first discov- 
ering that truth ; and then to notice the fact, that the great 
truths of Natural Religion were not known and acknowledged at 
the time of the coming of the Saviour. A tyro in chemistry can 
test by experiment the law of definite proportions ; but the dis- 
covery of that law, which had so long escaped the researches of 
the analyst, was due to the sagacity and penetration of one of 
the most philosophical minds of the age.* The systems with 
which Christianity had to contend at its origin, and most of 
those which have opposed its progress since, were not rational- 
istic or philosophical in character, — cold and meagre schemes 



* " All the truths of philosophy, all those belonging to the higher de- 
partments of knowledge, all those connected with the intellectual and 
moral progress of mankind, all those most important to our worldly com- 
fort and enjoyment, so far as their recognition has depended on man alone, 
have required strenuous and long-continued efforts of intellect to effect 
their gradual development, their clear exposition, and their general recep- 
tion. These efforts have been made by a few individuals, the instructors 
of their race. The processes of reasoning by which these truths are estab- 
lished, are now gone over and fully comprehended by only a compara- 
tively small portion of men. But the benefit of these truths, the practical 
result of those investigations, are now a common property and a common 
blessing. We are wise through the wisdom of others. Human knowl- 
edge is the aggregate wealth of civilized man, not the peculiar possession 
of individuals ; and all may share its advantages, whether or not they 
have contributed to it, or even understand tbe means of accumulation." — 
Norton's Tracts on Christianity, pp. 378, 379. 



452 NATURAL RELIGION AND REVELATION. 

of pure theism and rigid morality ; they were positive, complex, 
and ceremonial institutions of polytheism and mythology for the 
multitude, and vague speculation or blank skepticism for the 
thinking few. Pure doctrine on isolated points of morality and 
religious belief can be gleaned from the writings of the ancient 
philosophers ; but we find no traces of a system or general the- 
ory upon the subject, which does not combine with such doc- 
trine a large proportion of what is puerile, inconsistent, and 
untrue in opinion, as well as immoral and degrading in practice. 
Christianity has had scarcely less influence upon the opinions 
of its avowed opponents, than of its friends. Within a century 
or two after its origin, a striking change became apparent in 
the tone of pagan speculation in those countries where the new 
religion had been preached ; the breadth and purity of its doc- 
trine had affected, as it were, the moral atmosphere, and many 
inhaled some measure of its clearness and truth, who were 
perhaps ignorant of the source whence they came. It is hardly 
too much to say, that traces of this silent and indirect influence 
may be discerned even in the writings of Plutarch and Seneca, 
who were very nearly contemporary with the founder of Chris- 
tianity, though they may never have heard his name. Three 
centuries later, in the works, as well as the character and con- 
duct, of Julian, the apostate emperor, the irresistible directing 
power of that religion which he repudiated is strikingly mani- 
fest. He could not wholly put off the virtues or discard the 
ideas which he had learned from Christianity, even when his 
fickle and vainglorious spirit had carried him back to the idola- 
trous belief of his ancestors. His clemency and moderation, no 
less than the manner in which he modified and explained away 
the more extravagant points in the old pagan mythology, 
showed the effects of the faith which he rejected. 

Christianity first revealed the paternal character of God. — 
Christianity was not a mere republication of Natural Religion, 
but an early publication of truths which are so far natural to 
man, that though he could gain but very imperfect glimpses of 
them without the aid of a teacher, yet, when taught, they appear 
both evident and familiar, so that we can hardly persuade our- 



NATURAL KELIGION AND REVELATION. 453 

selves that they did not form part of the original furniture of 
the soul. "What doctrine, for instance, appears more evident to 
reason, or better suited to form the groundwork of a religious 
system, than that of the paternal character of God ? It seems 
an immediate inference from the belief that he created all 
things, and that he governs all with constant care and never- 
failing love. Yet in what religion, or what scheme of philo- 
sophical belief, that existed previously to Christianity, — always 
excepting Judaism, which, for the purposes of this argument, 
may be considered as merely introductory or preparatory to 
Christianity, — was the Deity ever distinctly represented under 
this most intimate and engaging relation ? I do not say that the 
epithet of Father was never applied to any of the deities in the 
complex scheme of Grecian mythology; Jupiter was called 
a the father of men and gods." But this was merely one mode 
of indicating his supremacy, just as a modern prince is called 
the father of his people ; the idea was never made the basis of 
the worship of Olympian Jove, who was himself represented as 
the son of Saturn, and as born and nursed in Crete. If ever 
the lame speculations of a few philosophical minds struggled up 
to some faint and imperfect conception of the Infinite One, the 
Creator and Ruler of the heavens and the earth, they dared not 
add the belief that he watched over his offspring even as an 
earthly parent careth for his children. The most sublime con- 
ception of him which they obtained was the Epicurean one, ac- 
cording to which, he sits apart from creation, eternal, supremely 
happy, and totally indifferent to the concerns of earth ; he was 
to be worshipped, if at all, on account of the excellence of his 
nature, and not because he did either good or harm to men. 
Compare this with the Jewish idea of Jehovah, or with the 
Christian conception of Our Father in heaven. 

The earliest religious doctrines of mankind. — In examining 
the relation of Natural to Revealed Religion, we must distin- 
guish between what have been called the logical and the chrono- 
logical order of our ideas. Of course, we cannot be convinced 
of the truth of a revelation, until we have proof of the existence 
of that Being from whom alone a revelation can proceed. We 



454 NATURAL RELIGION AND REVELATION. 

must know, also, that he possesses such attributes as are recon- 
cilable with the idea of his manifestation of himself to men. 
But this is the order of reason, not of time. Historically speak- 
ing, whatever worthy conceptions men possess of the nature of 
the Supreme Being, and the character of his government, were 
derived from revelation alone. The word of God first makes 
known the doctrine, which we then verify from the light of 
nature. We have already seen that polytheism is the natural 
commencement of man's religious faith, just as infancy is neces- 
sarily antecedent to manhood. It is the natural product of the 
religious sentiment, when not guided by revelation nor dis- 
ciplined by mental culture, seeking everywhere for a Deity, and 
finding one in every forest, stream, or star, or in the unknown 
cause of every stupendous event in the physical universe. 

" In proportion," says Hume, " as any man's course of life is 
governed by accident, we always find that he increases in super- 
stition, as may particularly be observed of gamesters and sailors, 
who, though of all mankind the least capable of serious reflec- 
tion, abound most in frivolous and superstitious apprehensions. 
All human life, especially before the institution of order and 
good government, being subject to fortuitous accidents, it is 
natural that superstition should prevail everywhere in barbarous 
ages, and put men on the most earnest inquiry concerning those 
invisible powers who dispose of their happiness or misery. Ig- 
norant of astronomy and the anatomy of plants and animals, 
and too little curious to observe the admirable adjustment of 
final causes, they remain still unacquainted with a First and 
Supreme Creator, and with that infinitely Perfect Spirit, who 
alone, by his almighty will, bestowed order on the whole frame 
of nature. Such a magnificent idea is too big for their narrow 
conceptions, which can neither observe the beauty of the work, 
nor comprehend the grandeur of its Author. They suppose 
their deities, however potent and invisible, to be nothing but a 
species of human creatures, perhaps raised from among man- 
kind, and retaining all human passions and appetites, together 
with corporeal limbs and organs." 

Hebrew contrasted with pagan theology, — Accordingly, 



NATURAL RELIGION AND REVELATION. 455 

throughout the night of ages that preceded modern civilization, 
polytheism was the prevailing faith of mankind, as it is still of 
those tribes and races upon whom the light of Christianity has 
not dawned. The classic nations of antiquity erected altars and 
temples to that crowd of vindictive and obscene gods and god- 
desses, whom all the glories of Grecian poetry and art could 
not ennoble, nor all the refinements of modern speculation alle- 
gorize into decency. Egypt bowed down before its deified 
dogs, cats, and bulls. The Magians worshipped fire, or divided 
their homage between Oromasdes and Arimanes, which are but 
synonymes for the Good Spirit and the Evil One. In India, 
the dreamy and meditative spirit of the people forged monstrous 
and incoherent schemes of theology and cosmogony, which can 
be fitly characterized only in the language of Hume, as " the 
playful whimsies of monkeys in human shape." In this long 
and dreary night, one race alone — and that by no means the 
one most distinguished for refinement, learning, or acuteness, — 
upheld the torch of a spiritual faith and a belief in the one true 
God. The Hebrew theology appears in those remote ages, 
amid the otherwise universal prevalence of the grossest idolatry, 
as a miraculous light " streaking the darkness radiantly." I do 
not need here to insist upon any thing in the literature or the 
history of this wonderful people, which has been called into 
doubt by the refinements of modern skepticism. I throw over- 
board for the present to the infidel the Book of Genesis, and all 
the contested points in the history of the Jews. I look only to 
the Psalms, which, as products of the Hebrew mind, of a very 
high antiquity, whether written by David or not, no unbeliever 
has ever thought of questioning. Contrast their pure and sub- 
lime monotheism with the theogony of Homer and Hesiod, with 
the popular gods of Egypt and India ; and account for it, if you 
can, consistently with the laws of the human mind, and the his- 
tory of human progress in civilization, philosophy, and relig- 
ion, without the aid of immediate inspiration or an antecedent 
Revelation. "We may consider the appearance of these sacred 
poems — in order to take nothing for granted which is liable to 
dispute — as a phenomenon in history, with a date as unsettled, 



456 NATURAL RELIGION AND REVELATION. 

if you will, as that of the Iliad and Odyssey, but certainly not 
more so, — and surely of an antiquity not much inferior to that 
of these two renowned products of the Greek intellect. Their 
genuineness, that is, their exclusively Hebrew origin and char- 
acter, is as unquestionable as the Greek origin of the two epics 
that record the wrath of Achilles and the wanderings of Ulysses. 
To make the comparison more particular, take only the nine- 
teenth Psalm, from its sublime exordium, — " The heavens de- 
clare the glory of God, and the firmament showeth his handy- 
work," — down to the pure and refined morality of its close, — 
" Cleanse thou me from secret faults ; keep back thy servant 
also from presumptuous sins, let them have no dominion over 
me ; but let the words of my mouth and the meditations of my 
heart be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, my strength and my 
redeemer." Compare such conceptions of the nature of the 
Supreme Being, and of the conduct which he requires of his 
creatures, with the purest and loftiest ideas upon the subject 
which all pagan antiquity can offer ; and then say, if the doc- 
trine of the Psalms can be referred to the unaided intellect of 
the Jews at that early period. 

The Jews unfitted to discover moral and religious truth for 
themselves. — All that we know of the history and character of 
this strange people is calculated to increase our wonder at the 
phenomenon. Their intellect was not comparable with that of 
the Greeks for quickness, sagacity, and refinement ; other Ori- 
ental nations equalled, if they did not surpass, them in depth 
and seriousness of thought. They were feeble in war, and not 
distinguished in commerce or the arts of peace ; they were 
ignorant and perverse, restless and wandering in their inclina- 
tions, and prone to idolatry. Whence came their sacred books, 
their Psalmists and their Prophets ? Their existence, unless 
we admit the reality of a special Revelation, the fruits of which 
were for a time confined to this people, is the most inexplicable 
problem in history. 

It is certain then, that the earliest profession upon earth of 
pure doctrine in religion, was not the fruit of human speculation 
and research in the department of what is called Natural The- 



NATURAL RELIGION AND REVELATION. 457 

ology. Neither at the period to which their sacred writings 
belong, nor at any other, was the Jewish intellect capable of 
proving, from the light of nature alone, the dogmas which it 
held and taught. There are no traces preserved of any attempts 
made by them in this direction. Theirs was not an active, 
curious, and investigating spirit, for ever pondering over the 
problems presented by God, man, and the universe. They 
were mere children in matters of speculation, the holders of a 
doctrine which they always very imperfectly comprehended, 
but which they held with an implicit and unreasoning faith, or 
cast aside under the force of temptation, but not from a skepti- 
cal turn of mind. The tone adopted by their prophets and re- 
ligious teachers was mandatory and authoritative, not argumen- 
tative or philosophical. They asserted, commanded, or threat- 
ened ; they did not stop to prove, for the people were incapable 
of understanding. The refinements of speculation and the sub- 
tilties of logic were for a different race or a subsequent age. 
The Jews appear throughout their history in a condition of 
tutelage ; they were led by the hand like children, and never 
aspired to take the lead for themselves. They were not an 
enterprising, not a conquering or a proselyting people ; though 
impatient of foreign dominion, they did not seek to impose their 
yoke upon others. Who ever heard of a Jew attempting to 
make converts to Judaism, or even to give a reason for the faith 
that was in him, other than that it was the patrimony of his 
nation, and that it came down from heaven? With all their 
stubbornness and perversity, the law and the doctrine which 
they professed during so many ages, modified their whole being, 
and moulded their national character. The religion formed 
the people, the people were incapable of forming the religion ; 
it was imparted to them, for they could not create it. Hence 
the fine remark of Pascal : " I find no reason to doubt the truth 
of the Hebrew Scripture ; for there is a great difference be- 
tween a book which an individual makes and throws among a 
people, and a book which of itself makes a people. We must 
acknowledge that the book is at least as old as the nation." 
And again, — " This race is remarkable not only for its an- 

39 



458 NATURAL RELIGION AND REVELATION. 

tiquity ; it is singular also for its duration, for it has come down 
even to the present day. While the nations of Greece and 
Italy, Sparta, Athens, and Rome, which began long afterwards, 
ended long ago, these alone continue to exist ; and in spite of 
the efforts of so many powerful monarchs, who have a hundred 
times undertaken to destroy them, as history testifies, and as it 
is easy to believe from the natural course of events, they have 
been preserved, a separate and peculiar people, through the 
long lapse of ages ; coming down from the earliest period to the 
latest, their history comprises within itself all other histories." 

The connection of Hebrew with Christian doctrine. — I have 
dwelt thus long upon the characteristics of this remarkable race, 
because we find in them the single instance which human his- 
tory affords, of a people professedly formed and guided from its 
origin by special Revelation, while all the other nations of the 
earth have attempted to find their way by the light of nature. 
Their history, also, is specially interesting to us ; for, as Chris- 
tians, we are the spiritual offspring of the Jews, though Chris- 
tian nations have been sorely reluctant to acknowledge the fact. 
Ours, also, are Moses and the prophets, — ours are Samuel and 
David, Isaiah and Ezekiel. The light in the midst of which 
we live, is but a rekindling and revivifying of that which ap- 
peared to the great Hebrew lawgiver in the burning bush, and 
which shone from the top of Sinai ; and though the brightness 
of the former is lost in the glory of the latter dispensation, our 
conduct is still regulated by the decalogue which formed the 
heart of the Hebrew law. This is striking evidence of the 
original purity and excellence of that law ; it has stood the test 
of three thousand years. Skepticism and wickedness, the rivalry 
of false religions and the refinements of a vain philosophy, have 
not prevailed against it. Of ivhat other scheme of ethical and 
religious doctrine, having its origin either in Egypt, India, 
Greece, or Rome, can the like be said, with the addition that it 
can stand the scrutiny of this skeptical and curious age, with all 
its advantages of learning and civilization ? What other system 
of popular belief, held and practised for centuries by a whole 
nation, and thus clearly distinguishable from the speculations of 



NATURAL RELIGION AND REVELATION. 459 

an individual, and even from the dogmas of a sect, has lived so 
long and triumphs still ? 

Characteristics of the Jewish race. — We have the Jews 
among us yet, a distinct race, though they are no longer a 
separate nation ; for the last few centuries of their history, they 
have been the money-changers and the peddlers of the civilized 
world. How has the glory departed from Zion, and the sceptre 
from Judah ! But they are the same people still, alike restless 
in temperament and obstinate in opinion, as of old. We can 
see in them all the leading characteristics of their ancestors, — 
a sthTneeked race, who murmured even when the heavens were 
opened to them, and worshipped the golden calf, even at the 
foot of the mount whence the God of their fathers was speak- 
ing to them in thunder. We can judge how likely it is, that 
such a people should have invented, or discovered by the exer- 
cise of their own reason, the purest system of morality and 
religion that the world had ever known before the promulgation 
of Christianity, and have held to it for centuries, amid national 
distress and subjugation, and the sufferings of exile, while around 
them the most enlightened nations of the earth were sunk in the 
grossest idolatry. To the mere student of social and political 
science, who looks at history without reference to its bearing 
uf on the great topic of God's moral government of mankind, 
the Jews are a mysterious race, and their fortunes are inexpli- 
cable. Their history is the strangest of any in the annals of 
the world. 

How %ce first obtain our religious belief. — I have said, that 
the Jews received like children a faith which they imperfectly 
comprehended, and to which, consequently, in the earlier period, 
they often faltered in their allegiance. A light from heaven 
shone about them, and they walked in the midst of it,* the figures 
of their lawgivers and prophets appearing glorified in that 
supernatural splendor ; but the light which should have been in 
them was darkness. They could not have discovered, they 
could not prove, they could hardly understand, the pure and 
lofty doctrines which they professed. We are too apt to forget, 
that even now, the greater part of mankind, including the bulk 



460 NATURAL RELIGION AND REVELATION. 

of civilized nations, receive their religious system in the same 
manner. Even at the present day, in enlightened and Christian 
countries, where curiosity is eager and speculation is rife, men 
do not study out their religion from the light of nature ; they 
are taught it ; they receive it from their fathers' hands, and at 
their mothers' knees. So it must always be, with a system of 
faith that prevails among a whole people, as distinguished from 
the speculative dogmas or peculiarities of opinion which are the 
property of a few studious and inquiring minds. If we except 
the instances of conversion in mature years from one faith to 
another, which are so few in number as to be insignificant, it 
may be said that religious belief is always received as a revela- 
tion, — a traditional or historical one, it is true, — but never as 
a natural science. Observe, however, that I am now speaking 
only of those broad features which distinguish one religion from 
another, and not of the minor points of doctrine which divide 
sects and individuals ; I refer to Christianity as distinguished 
from Mohammedanism, or Judaism, or gross idolatry. 

When we begin to study Natural Religion. — The faith which 
is thus originally implanted in the soul may be modified, en- 
larged, confirmed, or shaken off, by the fruits of subsequent in- 
quiry and reflection. But these later studies never begin at the 
original starting-point of human investigation ; we never come 
to them without bias ; we cannot wholly discharge from our 
minds the results of early instruction. We do not proceed from 
Natural Religion to Revealed, from deism to Christianity, 
though this is the order of reason and logic in the abstract con- 
sideration of the subject; but in the order of time, or the 
natural succession, we proceed from Christianity to the study 
of Natural Religion ; — that is, after the spirit of curiosity, and 
perhaps of doubt, is excited, we endeavor to find what evidence 
the light of 'nature affords as to the truth of those doctrines in 
which we have been instructed from the beginning, " even as 
they delivered them unto us which from the beginning were 
eye-witnesses and ministers of the word." This evidence, for 
the whole of the doctrine to which such a test can be applied, is 
found to be abundant and satisfactory ; the light from God's 



NATURAL RELIGION AND REVELATION. 461 

word, and that which comes from his works and ways in the 
material and moral universe, are found to harmonize and mingle 
into one. So sure is the testimony from the latter source, that 
these doctrines are seen to be capable of standing by themselves, 
and need not to be corroborated by Revelation. The deist sub- 
sequently unites them into what is called the Religion of Nature, 
and then pretends that Revelation cannot be true because it was 
not needed, since these doctrines are sufficient for life and prac- 
tice ; in his language, all that is essential in Christianity is as 
old as the creation. It may be demonstrated, he affirms, by 
human reason ; what need, therefore, is there of a miracle to 
support it ? Just as reasonably might he pretend, because a 
school-boy can now demonstrate a proposition which it' cost a 
Newton years of anxious and patient thought to discover, that 
the author of the Principia did nothing for the advancement of 
science, or to increase our knowledge of the mechanism of the 
universe. He finds religion in nature, only because Christianity 
has taught him where to look for it. The proof of this is, that 
the greatest philosophers and the best men of heathen antiquity 
anxiously strove to discover these truths, which now seem to us 
so familiar and so cogent, but were not able. " For I tell you, 
that many prophets and kings have desired to see those things 
which ye see, and have not seen them ; and to hear those things 
which ye hear, and have not heard them." 

It is just as true, then, in the natural order of our ideas, or 
as a matter-of-fact, that Natural Religion depends upon Revela- 
tion, as it is that, in the order of logic, Revelation depends upon 
Natural Religion ; for the latter, in its full breadth, purity, and 
excellence, never has existed without a Revelation, and we have 
no good reason to believe that it ever would have arisen inde- 
pendently of such aid, notwithstanding the clearness of its 
proofs, as they shine to our eyes under the reflected light of 
Christianity! The one is not so much a complement of the 
other, or a substitute for it, as a proof and a corroboration of 
that other. TJiey are not so much parts of one whole, as differ- 
ent modes of looking at the same truth, though from one point 
of view we see more than from the other. Call it sunlight or 

39* 



462 NATURAL RELIGION AND REVELATION. 

moonlight, the illumination still comes originally from the same 
fountain of light in the heavens. The doctrine, that all things 
are moved directly by the finger of God, who governs all events, 
both in the material and the moral universe, with a moral pur- 
pose, rests, as we have seen, upon sufficient evidence, when 
examined by the light of nature alone ; but will any one say, 
that your minds were not prepared for the reception of this truth 
by your previously acquired belief, that the powers and agencies 
of nature, as they are termed, were subject to the voice of Jesus 
of Nazareth ? And conversely, does not his repeated declara- 
tion, that the care of his Father in heaven extends even to the 
minutest objects and events, for " the very hairs of your head 
are ail numbered," render the natural proofs of this doctrine 
more cogent and acceptable ? Natural and Revealed Religion, 
then, mutually depend upon and strengthen each other. 

But Revelation goes beyond Natural Religion. — But the latter 
adds something to our knowledge ; besides clearing up the pros- 
pect, it widens the view. It dissipates the darkness which the 
natural eye cannot penetrate ; for it opens the portals of the 
tomb, and exposes to mortal vision the endless life that lies 
beyond. Two things are necessary for right conduct, — to know 
what our duty is, and to he persuaded to act in conformity to it. 
The former is fully provided for by the present constitution of 
things. The law is written upon the heart in characters that 
we cannot mistake, and its authority is proclaimed in the depths 
of our consciousness by a voice to which we must listen. Still, 
obedience is voluntary, temptations abound, and' the appetites 
which stir this mortal frame, with the passions that keep the 
spirit in activity, wage a fearful war with the requisitions of 
conscience. We need kelps to obedience ; the inducements to 
right conduct must be strengthened by a fuller view of the con- 
sequences of sin. Transgression, indeed, brings its own bitter 
fruits along with it, even in this world ; but our existence here 
is but a span, and the soul which has disregarded the authority 
of the law, may be indifferent also to its terrors, if our life is to 
terminate at the grave. But open the view beyond it, and let 
sin be seen bearing its own burden through an endless futurity, 



THE PROOF OF REVELATION. 463 

and even the most frivolous and the most perverse will be in- 
duced to pause and reflect. Nothing is revealed in this respect 
for the mere gratification of a vain curiosity. We know not 
how we shall be employed, with what bodies we shall be clothed, 
or how far the relations in which we stand to each other in this 
life will be preserved. But we do know, since we have received 
assurance of it from Him who spake as never man spake, that 
the same righteous God presides over both states of being, and 
will administer that which is to come upon the same principles 
of justice, mercy, and love, which appear in his government of 
this world's affairs. Then, to our eyes, the scheme of his provi- 
dence, which is but imperfectly seen and understood here, shall 
be visible as a whole, and we shall know even as we are known. 



CHAPTER XI. 

THE NATURE OF THE EVIDENCE OF A REVEALED RELIGION. 

Summary of the last chapter. — The relation of Natural to 
Revealed Religion was the subject of the last chapter. I en- 
deavored to show, that the latter was not a mere republication 
of the former ; for, besides adding to it the certain knowledge 
of a future life, — a fact of greater interest to human beings 
than any other truth whatever, the being of a God alone ex- 
cepted, — it first announced those great doctrines which are now 
included under the title of Natural Religion, and which human 
reason is competent to prove, though it was not competent to 
discover. What now seems to us both obvious and demonstra- 
ble, has often baffled the ingenuity and research of enlightened 
nations for centuries, before it was first made known or generally 
recognized as a principle in science, or a rule of conduct. 



464 THE PROOF OF REVELATION. 

Natural Religion coincides, as far as it goes, with the doctrines 
of Revelation ; it comprises that portion — far the larger por- 
tion — of these doctrines, which are susceptible of proof from 
the light of reason and nature, without appealing to the author- 
ity of the Author of the revelation. Instead of Natural Re- 
ligion, then, it ought to be called the natural evidence, or proof 
from the light of nature, of the greater part of Revealed Re- 
ligion. The instance of mathematical science is enough to 
show, that truths of great comprehensiveness and importance, 
which are necessary or demonstrable, which, in fact, are reduci- 
ble to identical propositions, may still be so recondite and diffi- 
cult of discovery, that the finest minds may be successively 
employed for ages in laborious study before they can be ascer- 
tained and established. And even now, these truths are taught 
to the learner ; that is, they are revealed to him as antecedent 
discoveries, and he is not left slowly to grope his own way to- 
wards them in the painful path of original investigation. When 
once revealed, the school-boy can demonstrate them. 

Applying these general remarks to our particular subject, I 
remarked that Polytheism is Natural Religion ; that is, Polythe- 
ism is the first and natural product of the religious sentiment 
and the unenlightened intellect. Reason shows that this is the 
probable result ; history proves that it was the actual result. 
The doctrine of the existence of one God, the Creator and 
righteous Governor of heaven and earth, first had place in the 
religious system of the Jews, a people so peculiar in character, 
so inferior in intellectual power and cultivation to the nations 
which surrounded them, and which were sunk in polytheism and 
idolatry, that their belief in monotheism is inexplicable, unless 
we admit the truth of their history, which declares that it was 
the fruit of revelation. The contrast between the Decalogue 
and the Psalms, on the one hand, and the poems of Homer and 
Hesiod, with the sculptured gods of Egypt and India, on the 
other, is so glaring and marvellous, that no hypothesis but that 
of a special interposition of God in the affairs of the Jews will 
solve the mystery. The Jews were emphatically a God-guided 
people ; their character, their opinions, their history, their pres- 



THE PROOF OP REVELATION. 465 

ent condition, are inexplicable facts, when not viewed in their 
religious aspect, and with the eye of faith. They are, in some 
sort, the living witnesses of the miracles that are recorded of 
their nation. They were always children in matters of faith, 

— wayward and stubborn children, too, — slow to learn and 
quick to forget. They discovered nothing for themselves ; they 
were not given to speculation, either in philosophy, theology, or 
ethics. But the vital features of their religion have stood the 
test of three thousand years ; and they triumph still, for they 
belong to Christianity. And the bulk of mankind are still, what 
the Jews were, children in matters of faith. They are not 
capable of working out for themselves a scheme of Natural Re- 
ligion ; with them, the choice lies between Revealed Religion, 
skepticism, and idolatry. 

. Antecedent probability of a Revelation. — There is no antece- 
dent presumption against Christianity, then, on the ground that 
a Revelation is not needed. Reasoning upon the nature of the 
case shows, what is also demonstrated by the history of man- 
kind, that without miraculous interposition and special instruc- 
tion, the human race, even under the most favorable circum- 
stances, gives itself up to false doctrines, false gods, corrupt 
morals, and a sinful and unhappy life. The antecedent pre- 
sumption, therefore, runs the other way ; it is in favor of a rev- 
elation. If the Deity is infinitely benevolent, we must expect 
that he will interpose to rescue man from degradation and sin, 

— to put him upon the right path, and then leave him to follow 
it or not, at his own good pleasure. It is no more incredible, 
that what are called the laws of nature should be interrupted for 
the instruction of man, than that they should be first established 
and generally maintained for his instruction. The latter we 
have proved to be the cdfee by irrefragable arguments drawn 
from the light of nature ; we look, then, with equal confidence, 
for the former supposition to be realized. If the Deity is 
always present in the material universe, vivifying, guiding, and 
moving all, we look also for his constant presence in his moral 
creation, to warn, to teach, and to govern mankind. And as 
the history of the brute earth, through its geological epochs, 



466 THE PROOF OP REVELATION. 

shows that the preserving agency, though uniform, is not me- 
chanical or blind in its operation, but that one mode of action 
is, after long intervals, substituted for another, — the continu- 
ance of animal and vegetable species in the natural way being 
interrupted after a given time, the old species destroyed, and 
new races, new orders of being, introduced, — so we must ex- 
pect that the history of man, or the annals of the moral universe, 
will show similar periodic exertions of Divine power and wis- 
dom ; the old mode of action, after a certain period, giving place 
to a new one, and the ancient dispensation being replaced by 
another, which, for this later time and for the altered circum- 
stances of the case, is & more perfect manifestation of Divine 
holiness and love. 

The creation of man himself, his first establishment upon the 
earth, forms one of these transition epochs, from which dates a 
new era in the history of God's providence. There is hardly a 
single fact in all natural science now more conclusively proved, 
than the comparatively recent introduction of human beings 
upon this globe, anciently tenanted only by plants and brutes, 
as it was at a still earlier day by plants alone ; the old skeptical 
objection upon this head, that the human race, for aught we 
know, has been perpetuated through an endless series of genera- 
tions, has been entirely refuted by the recent discoveries of 
geologists. What a signal and momentous interruption was 
here, of the former course of nature and the old' dominion of 
physical law ! What miracle of later times equals in importance 
that through which the reign of moral law began, and this 
world, till then a theatre for the display only of the natural at- 
tributes, was fitted to mirror also the moral perfections of the 
Infinite One ? 

Antecedent probability of the revetation to the Jews. — From 
the contemplation of this grand event, we pass, by a natural and 
easy transition, to the first recorded intervention of the Deity 
in the affairs of men, or rather to the first striking change in his 
providence, made for the purpose of showing that he is always 
with them, — to the revelation to the Jews. In one sense, then, 
it is no strange and inexplicable occurrence, when our eyes are 



THE PROOF OF REVELATION. 467 

first greeted by that mysterious light which we have traced 
shining in the midst of surrounding darkness ; we were prepared 
for it by the antecedent history of the world, and by our ideas 
of the manner in which God governs the universe that he has 
made. The law given to Moses is but another step in the series, 
in which were previously recorded the successive introductions 
of vegetable, animal, and human life. Vast intervals of time, 
according to our conceptions, separate these grand epochs from 
each other ; but these are as nothing with Him in whose sight a 
thousand years are but as one day. During these intervals, 
what we call the laws of nature hold without break ; but if they 
are rightly considered in the light in which I have attempted to 
present them, as the constant effects of the Deity's immediate 
action, these laws themselves prepare our minds for their own 
interruption whenever an emergency may arise ; because they 
are subservient to the same purpose which such an interruption 
is designed for, — namely, the education and the moral improve- 
ment of the human race. 

What is the proper evidence of a revelation. — With this very 
brief view of the antecedent probability of a revelation, I pass 
to the only remaining topic, — the nature of the evidence to be 
required in its support. First, then, neither to the contem- 
poraries of the revelation, nor to those who come after it, must 
the evidence in its favor be of that direct and overpowering 
character which woidd compel assent and enforce obedience. 
This rule results from the very nature of moral ' government, 
which excludes the idea of compulsion. If the heavens should 
be rolled together like a scroll, and the earth should give up its 
dead, ail in direct attestation of a call to repentance, and an 
eternity of reward or punishment should be revealed as the im- 
mediate consequence of compliance or neglect, then there would 
be no merit in obedience, and the whole object of the revelation, 
the moral improvement of man, would be frustrated. Even the 
near and certain prospect of a future life, it has been well ob- 
served, would so far deprive this stage of existence of all value 
in our eyes, that we should rather be unfitted for its duties 
than better prepared to meet them. God does not thus deal 



468 THE PROOF OF REVELATION. 

with his creatures. If an earthly sovereign or master, indeed, 
should issue commands to his servants, he would take care that 
their meaning should be obvious, and that the source whence 
they came should be well known, so that obedience would be 
sure. But the object in this case, as Butler well observes, is 
merely to have the thing done, as such a master does not trouble 
himself about the motive or principle upon which it is done. But 
in religion, the external act is of no importance whatever, while 
the motive for doing it, or the frame of mind in which it is per- 
formed, is the great end in view. The improvement of charac- 
ter, or the perfection of our moral nature, affords the only rea- 
son why a revelation should be made ; and in reference to this 
end, it is plain, that the obedience which is rendered only from 
awe, fear, or selfishness, is no obedience at all. 

Different character of the evidence of Christianity at different 
epochs. — " The first Christians had higher evidence of the mir- 
acles wrought in attestation of Christianity than what we have 
now." Of course, they had; they had the evidence of their 
senses, while we have only the evidence of their testimony. 
But then, they were without that strong testimony in its favor 
which we now possess, arising from its conformity with our pre- 
existing views of morality and the light of nature. It was a 
hard thing for them to accept the evidences of a spiritual relig- 
ion, of one which aimed only at the conversion of the heart and 
the life, instead of a grand ceremonial law, backed by earthly 
pomp and power. The Jews, for instance, Avere very reluctant 
to take a kingdom in heaven in exchange for that kingdom 
upon the earth which they had expected their Messiah to estab- 
lish, together with the temporal rule and sovereignty of their 
own nation over all others. The Sermon on the Mount seemed 
to them to contain strange, if not incredible, doctrine ; for it was 
at variance with all their preconceived opinions ; while, to the 
modern skeptic, it appears the most obvious and natural doc- 
trine in the world. It is all self-evident, he says, or provable 
from conscience and the light of nature ; there is no need of a 
revelation to teach us that. But was not a revelation necessary 
to teach such doctrine eighteen hundred years ago ? 






THE PROOF OF REVELATION. 46$ 

The first converts to Christianity had the evidence of their 
senses as to the reality of the miracles, while we have only 
historical testimony of their occurrence. We do not expect that 
a revelation would renew or repeat itself, through a continued 
series of miraculous occurrences, so that there should be direct 
evidence through all time of its truthfulness. Such an arrange- 
ment would defeat its own end, inasmuch as the marvel that is 
constantly repeated, ceases to be a marvel, and the miracle which 
is frequently renewed, becomes to our eyes a law of nature, or 
an ordinary event. A revelation is a fact in the history of 
mankind, just as much as the rise or fall of an empire, or the 
peopling of a newly discovered continent. We can have such 
proof only th.at it actually took place, as we have of the reality 
of all past events. There is a record of it, or there are traces 
of its occurrence ; and we form an opinion of the genuineness 
and authenticity of that record, we seek to interpret those traces, 
according to the ordinary rules by which we investigate histori- 
cal testimony. We do not expect that the validity of such tes- 
timony will be enhanced in the eyes of each successive genera- 
tion by a fresh interruption of the ordinary course of God's 
providence. No one undertakes to impeach all history ; no one 
pretends that we can be certain of nothing but that of which we 
have direct sensible evidence. If it were so, human knowledge 
would indeed be limited to a span. My point is, that the his- 
tory of a revelation is to be judged precisely like any other 
history. " The supernatural reaches us in Scripture," says 
Isaac Taylor, " not supernaturally, but precisely in the same 
way in which all other matters, conveyed by document, reach 
the parties interested." In the first place, we have to consider 
the intrinsic credibility of the events narrated ; and in the next, 
to weigh the positive testimony of their actual occurrence. 

As much evidence for sacred, as for profane history, and more. 
— If the principles which I have already sought to establish 
are well founded, a revelation is intrinsically probable; the 
way was prepared for it by the antecedent dealings of God with 
men; mankind had reason to expect one. We come, then, 
to an examination of the external testimony in relation to it, 

40 



470 THE PROOF OF REVELATION. 

precisely as if it related to an ordinary fact in profane history. 
Skepticism seldom assails the latter to much purpose, even 
when it records events that were contemporaneous with those 
mentioned in the Gospels, or long anterior to them. We ask, 
therefore, what principle justifies us in rejecting the truth of the 
Gospels, regarded merely as records of events, which will not 
also require us to consider the annals of the world as one uni- 
versal blank, down, at least, to the reign of Tiberius ? If we 
will not believe Matthew and Luke, how can we trust Thucydi- 
des and Tacitus ? No one will dare to say that these historians 
show more of honesty, candor, and an apparent disposition to 
tell the truth, than must be ascribed, on the best internal evi- 
dence, to the four Evangelists. Then why is the narrative of 
the deeds and crucifixion of our Saviour unworthy of credit, if 
the story of the exploits and the assassination of Julius Caesar 
be not also fabulous ? The Christian may fearlessly invite the 
comparison of external testimony that is here indicated ; he may 
challenge the skeptic to separate, if he can, the history of the 
origin of Christianity from that of the destruction of the Roman 
republic, or to show sufficient difference in the historical evi- 
dence to be a valid reason for rejecting the one and accepting 
the other.* 

Let us look for a moment at the relative weight of proof in 
the two cases, confining our attention to a few centuries imme- 



* " What is it then," asks Isaac Taylor, " which the question concern- 
ing the truth of Christianity supposes to be doubtful; or what is it which 
can be regarded as open to argument among those who are at once well 
informed and candid 1 Not the actual existence of Christianity as a visi- 
ble institution, up through the course of time, from the present age to 
that of the Julian Caesars. Nothing within the range of history — nothing 
mathematically demonstrated — is more certain than is the series of facts 
to which we now refer. Thus far then, we presume, there can be no con- 
troversy, or none amongst educated persons. Let church history be what 
it may in its qualities, assuredly it is history — and this, close up to the 
moment of its alleged origination. The testimony of the Eoman historian 
to this effect, is by none called in question. ' Auctor nominis ejus Chris- 
tus, qui, Tiberio imperante, per Procuratorem Pontium Pilatum, supplicio 
afFectus erat.' " — Taciti Annates, xv. 



THE PROOF OF REVELATION". 471 

diately preceding and following the commencement of the Chris- 
tian era. How many events in the profane history of this period 
are now universally admitted on the testimony of a single his- 
torian, though he could not have been an eye-witness of a thou- 
sandth part of them ; while, in the case of the Gospel narrative, 
we find distinct and harmonious records by four individuals, 
each marked by striking peculiarities of style and manner, and 
agreeing as to all essential points, two of the writers appearing 
to have been direct observers of the facts which they narrate, 
and the writing and publication of the testimony of all four 
being brought by irrefragable evidence within a few years, at 
the utmost, of the time when these events occurred ! Is it said, 
that incidental allusions in the contemporaneous literature of the 
period confirm most of the facts mentioned by the profane 
historians ? But the narratives of the evangelists have also a 
great amount of collateral testimony, in the shape of numerous 
epistles, written at the same period, addressed both to individuals 
and to large societies, making frequent allusions to these facts, 
even placing particular stress upon them, and betokening, 
throughout, a state of things which is totally inexplicable, unless 
these facts did really occur. 

Momentous consequences of tne establishment of Christianity. 
— But it may be urged in favor of profane history, that, as it 
relates to kings, nations, armies, and governments, the facts re- 
corded in it were of universal notoriety, and of such magnitude 
and importance, that they left a deep imprint, as it were, on the 
annals of the world, and shaped and colored all subsequent 
events in the records of nations, so that to question their reality 
would be an act of silly affectation. Very well ; how stands it 
with the history of our religion in this particular ? The estab- 
lishment of Christianity, viewed merely in the extent and mo 
mentous character of its external results, is the great fact in the 
history of the world, and from the time of Tiberius to the pres- 
ent day, this history is an inexplicable enigma without it. Let 
it not be said, that the world is still far behind the glorious stage 
of progress which the establishment of our religion seemed to 
promise for it, if that religion had been Divine. Christianity 



472 THE PROOF OF REVELATION. 

has no more been a failure than the primitive creation of the 
race. Sin, indeed, has continued to stalk the earth, and human 
misery to track its footsteps, ever since the expulsion from Eden, 
and even since the resurrection of Jesus Christ. But if we 
compare pagan Babylon, and Athens, and Rome, in their im- 
perial magnificence and their moral squalor and wretchedness, 
with the present condition of the civilized and Christian world, 
with schools in every hamlet, with institutions of beneficence in 
every city, and with churches on a thousand hills, and still more 
with the glorious promise of the future, we may well say that 
the founding of our religion — viewed not only in the purity 
of its doctrine and its ethics, but in the compass and grandeur 
of its outward consequences — is a work as worthy of Omnipo- 
tence as the first establishment of man upon the earth. The 
religion itself, with its lessons of redemption and peace, its in- 
culcation of love to God and man, and its revelation of a life 
beyond the grave, is worthy of "that splendid apparatus of 
prophecy and miracles," by which it was heralded and accom- 
panied. 

Apparently scanty means of accomplishing these great results. 
— I borrow an eloquent illustration from Julius Hare. " Let 
us cast our thoughts backward. Of all the works of all the 
men who were living eighteen hundred years ago, what is re- 
maining now ? One man was then lord of half the known 
earth. In power, none could vie with him ; in the wisdom of 
this world, few. He had sagacious ministers and able generals. 
Of all his works, of all theirs, of all the works of the other 
princes and rulers in those ages, what is left now ? Here and 
there a name, and here and there a ruin. Of the works of 
those who wielded a mightier weapon than the sword, — a 
weapon that the rust cannot eat away so rapidly, — a weapon 
drawn from the armory of thought, some still live and act, and 
are cherished and revered by the learned. The range of their 
influence, however, is narrow ; it is confined to few, and, even 
in them, mostly to a few of their meditative, not of their active 
hours. But at the same time, there issued from a nation, 
among the most despised of the earth, twelve poor men, with 



THE PROOF OF REVELATION. 473 

no sword in their hands, scantily supplied with the stores of 
human learning or thought. They went forth east, and west, 
and north, and south, into all quarters of the world. They were 
reviled ; they were spit upon ; they were trampled under foot ; 
every engine of torture, every mode of death, was employed to 
crush them. And where is their work now ? It is set as a 
diadem on the brows of the nations. Their voice sounds at this 
day in all parts of the earth. High and low hear it ; kings on 
their throne3 bow down to it ; senates acknowledge it as their 
law ; the poor and afflicted rejoice in it ; and as it has triumphed 
over all those powers which destroy the works of man, — as, 
instead of falling before them, it has gone on, age after age, in- 
creasing in power and in glory, — so is it the only voice which 
can triumph over Death, and turn the King of Terrors into an 
angel of light." 

Specification of the historical evidence of Christianity. — We 
possess in great completeness the history of the early diffusion 
of the Christian faith, and can show the marvellous and — in 
all but one view — unaccountable rapidity of its progress, till it 
became established and coextensive with the Roman dominion. 
Within the lifetime of the contemporaries of its founder, it had 
become extensively known throughout the fairest and most civil- 
ized provinces of Rome. Besides the incidental evidence of 
this fact derived from the travels and writings of Paul and the 
other Apostles, we have the distinct testimony of two of the 
most trustworthy Roman historians, Pliny and Tacitus, both 
belonging to the first century, and neither of them being a con- 
vert to the new faith, that, in their times, men called Christians 
were imprisoned and put to death on account of the obstinacy 
with which they adhered to their religious belief; and this sect 
was so numerous, that the former writer, in his capacity of gov- 
ernor of a great province, applied to the emperor himself for 
advice as to the manner in which they should be treated. Of 
course, many of the persons thus punished had probably received 
the facts of the Gospel history directly from the Apostles, and 
it is not unlikely that some of the Apostles themselves were 
among their number. In the next century, the new religion 

40* 



474 THE PROOF OP REVELATION. 

had spread so widely, that the acts and writings of its adherents 
and opposers occupy a conspicuous place in the history and 
literature of the age. But little more than three hundred years 
after the birth of its founder, the first Christian emperor swayed 
the sceptre over most of the civilized world. 

How closely the history of this progress of the Church is 
connected with the truth of the personal incidents related of our 
Saviour, appears from the institution of the Eucharist, mention 
of which is found everywhere in the annals of our religion ever 
since its birth. "We have a vague account of it even from 
Pliny, — such as we suppose might come by rumor to the ears 
of a haughty Roman magistrate. Thus a slight and — to a 
mere worldly view — very insignificant event in the life of 
Christ, his supping together with his disciples on the night on 
which he was betrayed, may claim as great an amount of evi- 
dence of its authenticity as can be awarded to any event in 
Greek or Roman history. The fact, that a few poor Jews met 
together one night at table, in a provincial city, more than 
eighteen hundred years ago, appears on the page of history in a 
broader blaze of light than surrounds any one incident in the 
life of an emperor of the Roman world. 

Under what circumstances a system of mythology is created. — 
The sufficiency of this mass of evidence, especially when com- 
pared with the historical proofs of other events that are ad- 
mitted without question, will be more apparent, if we consider 
the general character and degree of civilization of the period 
when the facts to which it relates are supposed to have taken 
place. Heroic legends and fables belong only to the infancy of 
society. A system of mythology, properly so called, embodying 
the religious ideas of a people, can be created only in the faint 
morning twilight of civilization, and many centuries must elapse 
before it can acquire form and distinctness. It must be anterior 
even to the art of writing ; for its only source is in the imagina- 
tion of bards and minstrels, in songs and ballads preserved only 
in the memory, liable to frequent changes and additions, and 
sung at lofty banquets, or, while wandering about the country, 
by a class of persons devoted to this profession alone. Men 



THE PROOF OF REVELATION. 475 

are exalted into heroes and demigods only when there is not 
light enough to see their true proportions. Hercules and 
Theseus, Numa and Egeria, Odin and Thor, are proper myth- 
ical personages, gigantic forms seen only in the mist of igno- 
rance, fancy, and superstition, when the songs of wandering 
bards are the highest intellectual entertainment of a barbarous 
people. When the art of writing is invented or introduced, this 
process of formation ceases ; written copies can be compared 
with each other, and the additions to the poem or legend by the 
ever-teeming fancy of the minstrels are detected and thrown 
out as spurious, not having the sacred stamp of antiquity. The 
formerly fluid elements of mythology curdle into shape, crystal- 
lize into rigid forms, and the religion of the people becomes 
fixed, though their poetry, recognized as such, may continue to 
advance. Even Homer and Hesiod did not invent their theog- 
ony; the work in great measure was done to their hands. 
Written copies of their poems contributed to stay the progress 
of invention in the national religion, and to check and control 
the imaginations of the bards who came after them. The 
mythology of the Greeks and Scandinavians, the legendary his- 
tory of Rome under the kings, may be faintly traced back 
towards their poetical birthplaces by the light of the traditions 
embodied in them ; but with the appearance of the first written 
record, authentic history begins. 

Character of the age in which Christianity had its origin. — 
But when did the Christian religion have its origin ? Just at 
the close of the Augustan age of Roman literature, when the 
civilization and refinement of the classic ages, in fact, had 
passed their culminating point, and were already beginning to 
decline. The fine arts had begun to give place to the more 
useful ; laborious and faithful annalists were taking the place of 
the more elegant, but perhaps less truthworthy, historians ; dili- 
gent observers of nature, like the elder Pliny, critics, like 
Quintilian, ethical philosophers and dramatic poets combined, 
like Seneca, writers on law, antiquities, husbandry, military 
tactics and strategy, showed that an age of analytic and minute 
labof was succeeding to one of inventive genius and original and 



476 THE PROOF OF REVELATION. 

daring speculation. It was not a credulous, but a skeptical pe- 
riod. Law had become a complex science, and its practice was 
a distinct and honorable profession. Trials were held and facts 
investigated by shrewd and wary advocates, in a manner not 
unlike the sharp practice of our modern courts. The rude 
sounds of war were heard only on the distant frontiers ; for the 
might of the Roman arms had long been peacefully acknowl- 
edged in the provinces and tributary kingdoms near the great 
heart of the empire. The arts, luxuries, and refinement of 
Rome were rapidly diffused in Judea, especially by the influence 
of Herod the Great, and were mingled with the indigenous ele- 
ments of civilization and learning. The priesthood and the 
scribes were bodies of learned and intelligent men ; the luxu- 
rious and skeptical sect of the Sadducees alone opposed a strong 
barrier to the propagation of marvellous and unfounded stories, 
or the rise of new superstitions. The people were fanatically 
attached to their ancient faith, were instructed from infancy in 
the Hebrew Scriptures, and looked for the august coming of 
their Messiah, under whom the renewed splendors of a theo- 
cratic government should far surpass the majesty even of hated 
Rome. This was no period, Jerusalem was no place, for the 
invention of a new scheme of religion, founded upon fable and 
imposture, — upon deceptions that must have been practised, if 
at all, before the eyes of acute and jealous magistrates, both 
Roman and Jewish, and of watchful and hostile religious sects. 
In reference, then, to the transmission to our own day of the 
doctrines and the facts of the Christian Revelation, in its purity 
and completeness, we have all the evidence that the nature of 
the case admits, — all that can be required without claiming a 
continued series of miraculous occurrences, which would enforce 
conviction only by stunning the intellect, shaking our confidence 
in the laws of nature, and thereby unfitting us for the duties of 
this life. The history of Christianity cannot be impugned with- 
out giving up the credibility of all history, and maintaining that 
we can have no satisfactory assurance of the reality of any 
events but those of which we are eye or ear witnesses, — a de- 
gree of skepticism so monstrous, that, although it may be 



THE PROOF OF REVELATION. 477 

avowed from caprice, it cannot be entertained as a sober judg- 
ment, or be allowed to influence our conduct. 

Character of the events narrated in the Gospels. — As the 
mere external evidence, then, vastly preponderates in favor of 
the sacred record when compared with the profane, it cannot be 
rejected for an assumed deficiency in this respect, and the only 
reason which is left for questioning its truthfulness is the extra- 
ordinary character of the events narrated in it. We are obliged 
to accept the four Gospels as faithful records of what actually 
occurred, unless we are prepared to maintain this proposition : 
— that a narrative of miraculous occurrences, properly so called, 
under all circumstances, or whatever may be the weight of testi- 
mony in its favor, is intrinsically incredible. This is the posi- 
tion of Hume, and it is one which every skeptic must assume 
before he can deny the truth of Christianity. Hume's cele- 
brated argument is intended to show, not that a miracle in itself 
is impossible, — a doctrine which, as he knew, cannot be main- 
tained for a moment,* — but only that we cannot believe in one, 
that an account or record of a miracle is essentially incredible ; 
and on this point the believer joins issue with him. 

How far the character of the events narrated affects the credi- 
bility of the narrator. — Before taking up the general subject, 
a preliminary remark is necessary as to the effect which ac- 
counts of miraculous events — even supposing that these are 
impossible to be believed — should have on the general credi- 



* " The assertion that a miracle is impossible, and consequently, that 
such a miraculous intervention of the Deity as Christianity supposes is 
impossible, must rest for support solely on the doctrines, that there is no 
God ; but that the universe has been formed and is controlled by physical 
powers essential to its elementary principles, which, always remaining the 
same, must always produce their effects uniformly according to their nec- 
essary laws of action. This being so, a miracle, which would be a change 
in these necessary laws, is, of course, impossible. 

"But when we refer the powers operating throughout the universe to 
one Being, as the source of all power, and ascribe to this Being intelli- 
gence, design, and benevolence, that is, when we recognize the truth, that 
there is a God, it becomes the extravagance of presumptuous folly to pre- 



478 THE PROOF OF REVELATION. 

bility of the narrator. If these accounts are interspersed in a 
record of other occurrences, which in themselves are thoroughly- 
probable, are perfectly consistent with each other, and are sup- 
ported to a reasonable extent by collateral testimony, and if the 
reputation of the narrator for veracity in all other respects is 
free from stain, then we affirm that his reputation is not de- 
stroyed by these accounts ; this is the almost unanimous judg- 
ment of historical critics. There is hardly one of the old Greek 
and Roman historians who does not occasionally introduce 
stories which are wholly incredible, so that no person hesitates 
for a moment in rejecting them. Yet he never thinks of reject- 
ing the whole work along with them ; he throws out the part of 
the narrative which he believes to be fabulous, and retains the 
rest ; and it is from such reservations that nearly our whole 
knowledge of ancient history is derived. 

.Eye testimony relates only to the outward events. - — But I go 
much further. If all the conditions just mentioned are fulfilled, 
and if the account of the miraculous occurrence is by an eye- 
witness, his narrative of this very event must also be accepted, 
even if we admit that miracles are inexplicable. The occur- 
rence is complex, embracing several facts. The witness testi- 
fies only to the outward facts, to what he heard and saw ; and 
these facts are not impossible. The miracle consists in the con- 
nection of cause and effect between these facts, and this connec- 
tion is not a matter cognizable by the senses, but is an inference 
of the understanding. It may be the narrator's inference, — 



tend, that we may be assured, that this Being can or will act in no other 
way than according to what we call the laws of nature ; that he has no 
ability, or can have no purpose, to manifest himself to his creatures by any 
display of his power and goodness which they have not before witnessed, 
or do not ordinarily witness. 

" The assertion, therefore, that a miracle is impossible, can be maintain- 
ed by no coherent reasoning, which does not assume for its basis, that all 
religion is false ; that its fundamental doctrine, that there is a God, is un- 
true. The controversy respecting it is not between Christianity and athe- 
ism ; it is between religion in any form in which it may appear, and athe- 
ism." — Norton on the Genuineness of the Gospels, vol. i. pp. 254, 255. 



THE PROOF OF REVELATION. 479 

that is, he may declare his belief in the miracle ; but this belief 
forms no proper part of his testimony as to the outward facts^ 
and therefore must not cause the rejection of that testimony. 
The inference may even appear to all reasonable persons to be 
quite irresistible ; — that is, they cannot see how such events 
should happen, unless they were related to each other as cause 
and effect ; but they can easily believe that the mere events 
themselves did happen. 

A few illustrations may make this doctrine clearer. If you tell 
me, for instance, that you cannot see how a word, uttered even 
by Divine power, should open the eyes of the blind, perhaps I 
may agree with you ; but if, when many credible persons seri- 
ously declare, that a man blind at one moment had good use of 
his eyes at the next, and that they were present at the time and 
saw the change, you say further, that you will not believe them, 
I shall have no great respect for the soundness of your judg- 
ment. Take another case ; it is perfectly credible that a vio- 
lent storm at sea should be suddenly followed by an entire calm, 
and that one of the passengers on board a ship should be speak- 
ing just at the time when the wind lulled. If one of the other 
passengers, a sober and truthful person, seriously informs us 
that this actually happened, we admit the possibility of it, and 
believe him without hesitation. After we have made this ad- 
mission, he informs us, for the first time, that the words spoken 
at the critical moment were these : " Peace ! be still." Is our 
knowledge of this additional particular to destroy our belief of 
the other events, which we have just declared to be perfectly 
credible? and is it not just as possible, in the nature of things, 
that the passenger should have uttered these words as any 
other ? 

Inability to explain the events does not disprove the fact of 
their occurrence. — My point is, that the testimony of the wit- 
nesses relates only to the outward facts, to what was visible or 
audible, and is always admitted to be sufficient when it satisfies 
the ordinary conditions under which evidence is received in a 
court of justice, or in investigating points of history, whatever 
may be the inference of the understanding as to the relation of 



480 THE PROOF OF REVELATION. 

cause and effect which subsists between these facts.* I have 
somewhere read a narrative, attested by several officers of the 
highest respectability in the British army, of the feats accom- 



* Upon this point, it is well to cite the opinion of an eminent jurist. 
The following is an extract from " An Examination of the Testimony of 
the Four Evangelists, by the Rules of Evidence administered in Courts of 
Justice. By Simon Greenleaf, LL. D., Royal Professor of Law in Har- 
vard University/' and author of a standard work on " The Law of Evi- 
dence." 

" In almost every miracle related by the evangelists, the facts, separately 
taken, were plain, intelligible, transpiring in public, and about which no 
person of ordinary observation would be likely to mistake. Persons blind 
or crippled, who applied to Jesus for relief, were known to have been 
crippled or blind for many years ; they came to be cured ; he spake to 
them ; they went away whole. Lazarus had been dead and buried four 
days ; Jesus called him to come forth from the grave ; he immediately 
came forth, and was seen alive for a long time afterwards. In every case 
of healing, the previous condition of the sufferer was known to all ; all 
saw his instantaneous restoration ; and all witnessed the act of Jesus in 
touching him, and heard his words. All these, separately considered, 
were facts plain and simple in their nature, easily seen and fully compre- 
hended by persons of common capacity and observation. If they were 
separately testified to, by witnesses of ordinary intelligence and integrity, 
in any court of justice, the jury would be bound to believe them ; and a 
verdict, rendered contrary to the uncontradicted testimony of credible wit- 
nesses to any one of these plain facts, separately taken, would be liable to 
be set aside, as a verdict against evidence. If one credible witness testified 
to the fact, that Bartimeus was blind, according to the uniform course of 
administering justice, this fact would be taken as satisfactorily proved. So, 
also, if Ms subsequent restoration to sight were the sole fact in question, 
this also would be deemed established, by the like evidence. Nor would 
the rule of evidence be at all different, if the fact to be proved were the 
declaration of Jesus, immediately preceding his restoration to sight, that 
his faith had made him whole. In each of these cases, each isolated fact 
was capable of being accurately obseiwed and certainly known ; and the 
evidence demands our assent, precisely as the like evidence upon any 
other indifferent subject. The connection of the word or the act of Jesus 
with the restoration of the blind, lame, and dead, to sight, and health, and 
life, as cause and effect, is a conclusion which our reason is compelled to 
admit, from the uniformity of their concurrence, in such a multitude of in- 
stances, as well as from the universal conviction of all, whether friends or 
foes, who beheld the miracles which he wrought." — pp. 61, 62. 



THE PROOF OF REVELATION. 481 

plished by a band of jugglers in India. One of the company, 
much muffled up, was suspended in the air, a few feet above the 
ground, seemingly without any support either from above or 
beneath. The officers were allowed to pass on each side of this 
person, close to him, and to cut the air both above and below 
him with their swords, so as to satisfy themselves that no cord 
or wire, however slender, supported the weight. Now if the 
witnesses on this occasion, highly respectable men, should ap- 
pear before you and vouch the correctness of this account in 
every particular, there is not one among you who would be in- 
clined to reject their testimony, and to set down the whole state- 
ment as a falsehood. You would accept the whole ; you would 
admit the facts to be as they stated them ; and you would then 
exert your judgment and ingenuity in order to determine, 
whether the law of gravitation was suspended in this case by a 
miracle, or whether some combination of this law with other 
principles of mechanics would allow such an effect to be pro- 
duced without supposing that gravity ceased to operate, or 
whether some very artful deception was practised, which eluded 
the watchfulness of the spectators. Whichever of these con- 
clusions you might adopt, it would be an inference from the 
facts as stated to you, not a denial of those facts, nor an im- 
peachment of the veracity of the witnesses. Suppose you could 
not rest satisfactorily in either of these conclusions ; — that 
neither your mechanical skill, nor your acquaintance with the 
arts and shifts of jugglers, would enable you to devise any 
rational explanation of the phenomenon ; still, you would believe 
in that phenomenon, you would trust the veracity of those who 
told the story. Instances of this sort might be multiplied in- 
definitely. I cannot tell how the grass grows ; but I am not 
therefore to conclude that it does not grow. 

How we learn that a miracle was wrought. — So it will be in 
every other case. In one instance, the facts, the external cir- 
cumstances of the case, considered in all their breadth and 
variety, may lead me to the conclusion that a miracle was 
wrought ; in another, I infer with equal positiveness that the 
event was a mere piece of jugglery. You may attack the 

41 



482 THE PROOF OF REVELATION. 

soundness of my judgment in either case, if you will ; you may 
say that my conclusion is drawn from insufficient premises ; but 
this is not impeaching the credit of the witnesses who furnish 
the accounts on which both my reasoning and your own are 
founded. Miracles are distinguished from jugglery, by the 
judgment of the hearer, not by the credibility of the witness ; 
for we learn from the witness only what the facts were, and 
then put our own interpretation upon them. To try to limit the 
confidence reposed in reputable witnesses, or to deny the credi- 
bility in certain cases of any amount of testimony, not merely 
from our narrow views of what is possible, but from our power 
of devising a satisfactory explanation of the modus operandi, or 
of shoving how the thing was done, is a foolish and groundless 
assumption. 

I believe that Jesus " cried with a loud voice, Lazarus, come 
forth ! And he that was dead came forth, bound hand and foot 
with grave-clothes ; and his face was bound about with a nap- 
kin." It is for you to decide, in view of all the circumstances 
of the case, of the character and doctrines of Jesus, the life 
that he led, the men that he had about him, and the enemies 
who were watching to destroy him, whether this was a miracle 
or a piece of jugglery. Whichever way you may decide, the 
fidelity of the narrative, the truth of the account, remains un- 
shaken ; for it would be monstrous to say, that you would accept 
the strangest, the most marvellous statements, when there was 
even a suspicion that there was jugglery in the case, but would 
reject them, if the attendant circumstances made it probable 
that a miracle was wrought. Neither Hume's argument, then, 
nor any other argument, disproves the authenticity of the Gos- 
pels on the ground of the marvellous occurrences that are re- 
corded in them ; at the utmost, it affects only our interpretation 
of these facts, or the doctrines which we seek to establish as in- 
ferences from them. His argument, if it be worth any thing, is 
not a rule of evidence, but a principle of interpretation. 

How much is proved from the evidence now adduced. — It is 
important to mark the breadth of the conclusion at which we 
have now arrived. The truth of the Gospel narrative being 



THE PROOF OF REVELATION. 483 

tried by all the tests which are applicable to the history of past 
events, and being found' to answer all the conditions under which 
we admit the testimony of others as to the reality of occurrences 
which we have not ourselves witnessed, must be considered as 
established. The facts that are recorded respecting the origin 
of our religion the inquirer must believe ; he may put what in- 
terpretation upon them he chooses. We are to reason upon 
these facts, therefore, precisely as if they were events of yester- 
day, which had taken place under our own observation. Jesus 
of Xazareth lived and taught, as is related ; he set forth the 
doctrines and the claims which are imputed to him. At his 
command, the blind received their sight, the lame walked, the 
lepers were cleansed, the deaf heard, the dead were raised up, 
and the poor had the Gospel preached to them. That he did 
these works was the answer which he returned to John in 
prison, who had sent to him to inquire whether he was the 
promised messenger from God. He appealed to these works 
in proof of his special commission and Divine authority, and we 
are to decide, as John did, whether this proof is sufficient, — 
whether these deeds were truly miraculous ; and, if so, whether 
they afford sufficient evidence that the doctrines which Jesus 
taught were a revelation from Heaven, — that the words which 
he spake were not his, but his Father's who sent him. 

And here we might fairly leave the subject, having carried 
the inquiry quite as far as the legitimate boundaries of the hu- 
man understanding will permit. There is a blindness of the 
heart, as well as of the intellect ; reasoning may cure the latter, 
but it will have no more effect on the former than on the nether 
mill-stone. Any one who can believe that the writings of the 
four Evangelists constitute a faithful and true history in all their 
parts, and still deny the Divine origin of the Christian religion 
on the ground of mystical speculations and metaphysical sub- 
tilties, labors under an incurable disease in his moral condition 
and sympathies, and is beyond the reach of argument. But as 
waiving the discussion of miracles in the abstract might seem 
like an implied admission that there was an insuperable diffi- 
culty in the case, and this might affect the convictions even of 



484 THE PROOF OF REVELATION. 

those who did not know what the difficulty was, I have at- 
tempted to prove generally in this work, not only that there is 
no valid presumption against the occurrence of miracles, but, 
when the proper conditions are fulfilled, that there is a strong 
antecedent probability in their favor. 

Why miracles have been deemed incredible. — Practically, the 
objection to them consists altogether in a shortsighted reference 
to the assumed invariability of the laws of nature. The im- 
probability of a violation of law, of a break in the continuity 
of events, is gauged entirely by what would be the measure 
of one's own surprise, if, on the speck of earth which he calls 
his home, in his personal experience, which is but a dot in 
the history of the universe, there should suddenly be a wholly 
arbitrary and purposeless suspension of the usual sequence of 
cause and effect, — if the sun should cease to warm, the fire to 
burn him, or the water to slake his thirst, — if he should lose 
his eyesight without a cause, and acquire it again without a 
remedy. A man's sanity would very properly be suspected, 
who should now actually look for, or fear, such a meaningless 
subversion of the order of nature and Providence. His ex- 
pectation would be akin to the folly of a child, who hopes that 
without industry or thrift some lucky accident will suddenly make 
him very rich, or some blind chance throw down the huge ob- 
stacle that now lies between him and the accomplishment of his 
wishes. But the silly longings of that child are hardly less phil- 
osophical than the narrow self-conceit of the man who errs in 
the opposite extreme, and would fain weigh the great epochs in 
the history of a universe in the narrow scales of his own infini- 
tesimal experience. Events are strange or marvellous, not in 
themselves considered, but in relation to the means by which they 
are accomplished, or to the purpose that calls them forth. If men 
had talked a century ago of transporting themselves a hundred 
miles within the hour, or of sending a message in the twinkling 
of an eye to a place a thousand miles off, the bystanders would 
have supposed that they were quoting from the Arabian Tales ; 
but railroads and steam have accomplished the one, and the 
magnetic telegraph has effected the other. And men do not 



THE PROOF OF REVELATION. 485 

stupidly sit still and marvel that these things are so. TJie 
means are seen to be proportioned to the end ; the purpose and 
the want have created or founded the sufficient power. 

Presumptions in favor of the Christian miracles. — In case 
of an alleged miracle, it is the part of reason to inquire, first, 
whether the circumstances are such as to render it probable 
that the Deity would interpose, or alter the usual character of 
his dealings with men ; and, secondly, whether the effect to be 
accomplished by it, supposing it to be real, would be commen- 
surate in dignity and importance with the means employed. 
We cannot believe that the usual course of God's providence 
would be changed, except for some grave purpose, or on some 
striking emergency. Hence we reject almost without hesitation 
the marvellous stories in which the credulous often seek an ex- 
cuse for their superstition ; while, on occasions of so vast moment 
to all mankind as the giving of the law at Sinai, or the resur- 
rection of our Lord, to confirm the waning faith of his disciples, 
a miracle seems not only probable, but almost natural. It is 
because the purposes of the Almighty are unchangeable, that 
we believe a law may be suspended for the same object which has 
hitherto kept it in operation, — namely, the moral improvement 
and guidance of mankind. In the vast extent and beneficial 
character of the results produced by the Jewish and the Chris- 
tian revelations — results which are matter of unquestioned his- 
tory or immediate experience — I find a strong presumption 
that these revelations were miraculous, or that they came from 
God ; and in the usual character and steadfast purpose of the 
Divine government, as it appears to the eye of reason alone, in 
watching the ordinary current of this world's affairs, I find 
what changes this presumption almost to certainty, even before 
examining the direct evidence in the case. Before we hear the 
witnesses, or read the record, we have stronger reason to sus- 
pect that there must have been miraculous interposition in 
founding these religions, than that there was deception in the 
case, to which I have alluded, of Indian jugglery. 

Miracles more probable after the creation of man than before. 
— For look to the antecedent history of this earth, as it is 

41* 



486 THE PROOF OF REVELATION. 

chronicled in the very stones upon which we tread, and ask if 
the creation of a reptile, an insect, a worm, is a fit occasion for 
the special exercise of Almighty power, and not the redemption 
of all mankind from sin ? Remember, that, upon the lowest 
theory respecting physical causation, the institution, the first 
establishment, of a new race or species of beings upon the 
earth, cannot be accounted for by the ordinary operation of the 
laws of nature, but we are compelled by it to bring in the action 
of a supernatural cause. Did Omnipotence, then, become weary 
only after God had created man in his own image, the noblest 
of his creatures, though unintelligent tribes or a desert earth 
through countless ages had been visited with frequently recur- 
ring tokens of oversight and protection, of a care which never 
slept ? 

What the human race would have been without Christianity. — 
Ask, again, as a means of estimating the benefits produced by 
these assumed miraculous displays of infinite goodness, what the 
situation of the world would probably have been, if neither of 
them had been made. Suppose that the law had not been given 
to Moses, and that grace and truth had not come by Jesus 
Christ, so that neither the Jewish nor the Christian religion 
could be counted among the elements which affect the condition 
and the hopes of mankind. How different would be the aspect 
of modern civilization, how faint the light afforded by human 
reason alone for the pursuit of truth, and how feeble the motives 
for urging men to the practice of all the virtues ! Imagine the 
human race still hesitating between skepticism and polytheism, 
the doctrine of the one true God being still, as it was in the 
days of Plato and Aristotle, a mere speculation of the philos- 
opher in his closet, and the great truth of a future existence 
and an endless retribution being, as it was then, a vague dream, 
a blank hypothesis, which can neither be proved nor disproved, 
like the supposition that the other planets are tenanted by ani- 
mated beings. Suppose that an oath had no sanction, that the 
Sabbath had never existed, that there was no known object of 
prayer, that the practice of morality was not enforced by a 
Divine command, and that neither the hopes of the innocent nor 



THE PROOF OF REVELATION. 487 

the remorse of the guilty were quickened by an assured belief 
that the justice and goodness of the Deity would be amply 
vindicated beyond the grave. We are accustomed, perhaps, to 
think of the change that would thus be produced in our own 
feelings ; but let us widen the prospect, and ask how the lot of 
the whole human race would probably be affected, and what the 
record of history must have been, if these appalling supposi- 
tions were realized. If the consequences would be afflicting in 
the highest degree, were men to give up the faith which they 
now possess, and which has already wrought its good work for 
eighteen hundred years, what would they have been, if this 
faith had never been established upon the earth ? Carry this 
reflection along with us, and we cannot hesitate to admit that a 
miracle was highly probable for the establishment of Christian- 
ity. TVe shall open the record of its origin with a full expecta- 
tion of finding that it was attended by signs and wonders, such 
as befitted the magnitude of the occasion, and its inestimable 
importance to the human family. Having vouchsafed a miracu- 
lous attestation of it at the beginning, we can believe that the 
Deity " committed its future progress to the natural means of 
human communication, and to the influence of those causes by 
which human conduct and human affairs are governed." 



END. 






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